.>^\ 



"!/' ..>Jf; 



''^'^ 









■\.4^ ..ail 



^-^ :^: ^f^ 












^^^.^ 



,0 o 








A \ '^. 



.^ -'-,. 



tlJ 



">.. 












lW - .sr ■"' 



>:^'^. 






■ I 






^-.x^"' :£MM\ 



A>' </*^i 






■'^f :i 



'. '-^p .#'.-' 

'%''%. s.-*' -\# 



%' ,^^^. 









^ .<^- 









•\o^ 






0^ ,s'<- / -/^ 



aV p. 







.iis^ ^ 



'"\/ 






%^^ %. r ^mm^. 



->. /- -- 



/^,,^^^• /^'/>h 



.^^ 









\^ .^.i^^l!^ 



aV'/' 






a 0' 



.^^ -% 



• \N 






A> 'J^^ 



1 



LEGENDS, BALLADS, 

&c. 



LONDON 

1-RINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO. 

NEW-STREET SQUARE 



^g^^./''^^^'^\^^ 







s«^ 



^^ V' 









> 



iSetiicateb 



TO 



THE MOST NOBLE 



THE MARQUIS OF WESTMINSTER, K.G. 



ONE OF CHESHIRE S BEST FRIENDS. 



PREFACE. 



Lord Randal, the great enemy of Llewellyn, found 
himself one day surprised, in his castle of Rothlent, in 
Flintshire, by a very superior force ; he sent an express 
to his great general, Roger Lacy, Constable of Chester, 
desiring immediate relief. This express found Lacy at 
Chester, during the anniversary of the Midsummer fair. 
The occasion was urgent, and the general, we conclude, 
having no regular force at his disposal, marched im- 
mediately to the relief of Earl Randal with a vast (as 
we should say in Cheshire) of players, fiddlers, musicians, 
minstrels, and any other vagabonds he could assemble, 
whom chance had drawn to the same focus by the load- 
stone of the fair. Llewellyn, alarmed at the approach 
of this multitude, raised the siege with the utmost pre- 
cipitation. When Earl Randal's triumphant cavalcade 
made its public entry into Chester, after their success 



viii Preface, 



in forcing Llewellyn to raise the siege, it is most probable 
that the victorious minstrels played before the Earl ; and 
it is known that the minstrels (at the annual feast kept 
on the Midsummer commemoration of the anniversary 
of the day) always headed the procession to St. John's 
Church, playing on their instruments before the Lord of 
Button, the Earl of Chester's representative, to whom 
the Constable's son, John Lacy, had transferred the 
minstrel prerogative given by Earl Randal to his father, 
with other rights and privileges, upon his return to Chester 
after his rescue from Llewellyn. The father of this Rafe 
Button is supposed to have marched at the head of the 
band of minstrels, against Llewellyn, as mentioned 
above. The anniversary of the solemnity was celebrated 
on the festival of John the Baptist, by a procession of 
all the minstrels to the church dedicated to this tutelary 
Saint in the city of Chester. After having been con- 
stantly observed for at least five hundred and fifty 
years, the procession seems to have been discontinued 
A.D. 1758, about a century since. 

To prove how some exclusive privileges (of which the 
licensing minstrels granted by our Cheshire monarch 
was one) were respected by the legislature, we find that 
the Act 29 of Elizabeth, which declares all itinerant 
minstrels to be vagabonds, particularly excepts the 



Preface. 



IX 



minstrel jurisdiction of John Button, of Button in Che- 
shire, Esquire, It was not, then, very unnatural for me 
to suppose that Cheshire (the former abode, and latest 
stronghold, of the minstrels of England) would be es- 
pecially rich in the songs, ballads, and relics of minstrels 
and minstrelsy, beyond any other county. The result, 
however (as far as my own inquiries have extended), 
has not justified nor realised my anticipations. In my 
small collection I have not been able to include a single 
specimen that I can positively assert to be a remnant 
of the legitimate minstrels of Cheshire ; and with the 
exception of Geoffrey Whitney, Broome, and Parnell, I 
know of no Cheshire-born poets of the past age ; for 
Reginald Heber, though gone, can hardly yet rank with 
the past, nor like Rowland Warburton with the present 
age. I have seen many election squibs, personalities, &c., 
of auld lang syne, but have reproduced none of them ; for 
if there is one thing more than another ephemeral, and 
incomprehensible and uninteresting even to the next 
generation, it is an election squib. Like a rocket or shell, 
its one discharge may have been fatal, but it is innocuous 
ever afterwards, and the debris not worth collecting. 

I have avoided almost all topographical descriptions, 
which are generally uninteresting to the mind, however 
the sight of the beauties of nature may delight and charm 



X Preface. 



the eye. I have steered clear of prologues, epilogues, 
laments, and elegies; I have transcribed but few 
epitaphs ; I have rigorously excluded first views, fare- 
wells, et hoc gemts oinne. My history may be proved 
faulty. I am aware, for instance, that, according to 
Hume, Edward I. on his return from the Holy Land, 
after hearing of his father's death at Sicily, landed in 
France before visiting England. I have only made him 
do what he ought to have done — namely, go home first ; 
and Grafton, in his Chronicle, corroborates my version. 
'Wherefore in all hast he (Edward I.) sped him into 
England, and came to London the seconde of August,' 
&c. 

Sir Walter Scott observed to a friend who pointed 
out to him an inaccuracy in his * Bonnets of Bonny 
Dundee,' * We cannot always be particular in a ballad.' 
It may be alleged of one of the ballads written by my 
talented friend Mr. John Leigh, * The Knight's Lowe 
and Lady's Grave,' that Sir Piers Legh (of Agincourt 
fame) is buried at Macclesfield ; but who shall say 
that he was not first buried on Knight's Lowe } It 
is difiicult to prove a negative, and great people's 
remains in former times were buried piecemeal in 
different places. Canova, all the dismembered saints 
(and quite recently the late ■ King of Prussia), are 



Preface. xi 



examples of this. Grafton, in his Chronicle, in speaking 
of Richard I. says : ^ He was buried, as he himself 
willed, at Everard, at the feet of his father ; howbeit 
his hart was buried at Roen, and his Bowelles at 
Poytiers.' 

If I have been disappointed in not having met any 
minstrel relics, I have been equally so in the paucity of 
our legends; but Cheshire, generally speaking, is a 
flat county, and the ideal flourishes most amongst 
mountains and streams; and few even of our many 
castles and sites of castles have any extant traditionary 
lore attached to them, or it would long since have been 
unearthed by Mr. Beamont, or some other of our zea- 
lous county antiquaries. I have been in correspond- 
ence, in the course of my inquiries after the past, with 
many gentlemen and antiquaries, from all of whom I 
have met undeviating kindness ; and if I have in a great 
degree been unsuccessful in my researches, I believe 
that the actual non-existence, or I may rather say dis- 
appearance, of material has been the cause of failure. 

A long hiatus elapsed between the invention of print- 
ing and the energetic pursuit of antiquarian lore. Printing 
put an end to the story-teller's occupation; but at 
the time the live books were discarded, the new art did 
not, whilst there was yet time, collect the stories of oral 



xii Preface. 

tradition, and the treasures of auld lang syne, and pre- 
serve and pot them for posterity. Wherever I have 
found anything that suited my purpose,! have copied it — 
like ' The Old Man outwitted,' and other extracts, from 
* Halliwell's Palatine Anthology.' Halliwell was himself 
disappointed at the poverty of materials for his work. 
I have strictly kept to Cheshire. Had I travelled to 
Derbyshire, Lancashire, and other adjacent counties, my 
field of material would at once have extended itself, but 
my object has been to collect a ' Cheshire Garland ' 
purely and solely. Should this collection be the means 
of eliciting any hitherto concealed broadsides, or bringing 
from their dusty retreat any black letter curiosities or 
manuscript legends and ballads relating to Cheshire, 
my trouble, or rather my amusement, may not be thrown 
away. I may be the jackal to some future antiquarian 
lion, and I may be the means of putting into the heads 
of efficient men the idea of collecting the ballads, legends, 
and odds and ends of the past, belonging to their respec- 
tive counties, before the wave of oblivion closes over the 
fast disappearing materials. I have rejected some able 
articles on Cheshire, the source of which was entirely 
owing to the imagination, and not to so7ne, however 
faint, traditional foundation, or w^hich might well from 
their length be published alone. I believe, such as it is, 



. Preface. xiii 

it is the only attempt to collect and publish an olla 
podrida about Cheshire that has been made; and I may- 
say to any reader — 

Si quid novisti rectius istis, 
Candidus imperti ; si non, his utere niecum. 



EGERTON LEIGH. 



The West Hall, High Leigh 
August 1866. 




CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Legend of Constable Sands (about 1509) . . . Henry Brads haw i 

A Different Version of the same Legend . , . . Egerton Leigh 5 

The Spanish Lady's Love Unknown 9 

Cheshire Cavalry John Haward 15 

Legend of Chester: « When the Daughter ) 

is stolen, shut the Pepper Gate' S ' ' ' ^S^^'ton Leigh 18 

Easter Song . . . Communicated by Gen. the Hon. Sir E. Ctist 25 

' Old M b' r ' \ -^^^'^^^ Lancashire and Cheshire ) 

\ Historical Collectioit S 

The Loves of Sir Robert Barton and ) 

Margery Leigh : a Tale of Lyme. \ John Leigh 27 

The old Brown Forest R, E. Warhirton 36 

The Mayor of Chester's Speech to James L J Hopkinson's MSS. \ 

on his return out of Scotland (a.d. 161 7) ( vol. xxxiv. p. 85 ) ^^ 

Recipes for Hooping-cough in Cheshire .... Egerton Leigh 44 

Cheshire Cheese : an Old Song .... Sent by William Beamo7tt 45 

Another Version of the same Sent by Rev. E. Coleridge 46 

Another Version of the same 47 

The story of Hcseley Hall. . . \''X.u,t "'''''"'' \ ^° 

Lines said to have been written by the Regicide John Bradshaw . . 55 

The old Nutwoman : a Legend of Knutsford . . Egerton Leigh 56 



xvi Contents. 



PAGE 

Belf^ Rhymes : Wybunbu^ Church . | '"^l^:'^::" \ 59 

Lines on Middlewych .... Comnuinicatcd by Archdeacon Wood 60 

Epitaph in Middlewych Churchyard . . . Sent by B. L. Vaudj-ey 60 

Price the Highwayman Egerton Leigh 61 

Blessing the Brine Egerton Leigh 62-. 

The Old Man Outwitted .... HallitvelVs Palatine Anthology 66 
The White Hind : a Legend of ) 

St. John's Church, Chester S Ega^ton Leigh 75. 

Sir Percy Legh John Leigh 78 

Stockport: origin of name. Nicols de Uteris inventis 91 

The Skeleton Hand : a Legend of Lymm Church . Egerton Leigh 92 

The Sands of Dee Rev. Charles Kingsley 96 

Epitaph on an old Chester Woman 



who sold Potteiy ^ . . . . Elegant Extracts 

The Wishing Steps, Chester Egei^ton Leigh 99, 

The Iron Gates : a Legend of Alderley . . The Guide to Alder ley 102 
The Unfortunate Loves of Thomas Clutter- ) 

buck and Polly Higginbotham ! ' • ' ^ ^''^adside 112 

Cheshire Wyches : a Song of Salt R. E. Warhirton 115 

The Lady's Shelf : a Legend of Hilbree Island . . Egei'ton Leigh 119- 

The Souler's Song, by a Souler Orma^od's Cheshire 128 

Qusesitum Meritis R. E. Warbnrton 130 

The Two Rectors : a Tale of Malpas Egerton Lagh 133. 

Ode on Vale Royal Warton 137 

Legend of the Foundation of Vale Royal Abbey . Egerton Leigh 142 
The Devil and the Monk : a ) 

Legend of Merton Sands S Rev. J. Sedgwick 150 

The Men of Cheshire Drayton 153 

Motto of Cheshire Drayton 154 

Emblem of Cheshire Drayton 155 

Polyolbion: Song XL as far as it relates to Cheshire . . Drayton 156 

Belfry Rhymes : Holmes Chapel 161 

Legend of Combermere . . Sent by Dow. Viscountess Combernwe 162 

Barning the Appleton Thorn Ega-ton Leigh 164. 



Contents. xvii 



Proposed Inscription for the ( n r- jTr l . .e.^ 

rr^x, -D 0,1- xj C ^- ^- Warburton 167 

Thorn Pubhc House ) 

A Song of Teucerean Archers at Stockport (about 1790) . . Travis 168 

Extracts from a Son^ on Archeiy (about ) 

.,,,-, "^o 1 . \ \ Os:den 170 

the middle of the 1 8th century) > ^ ' 

Bo^^^neeting Song R. E. Warbiirion 172 

Belfry RhAines : St. John's ) ^^ „.,„„, . ^ , , 

^/ J „, ^ •' [ ... Hallnveirs Palatine Anthology 174 

Church, Chester \ t>^ i-r 

Anagram on Randle Holmes 174 

Nixon the Palatine Prophet 175 

Nixon's Prophecies 177 

Le Gros-Veneur R. E. Warbiirton 186 

The Battle of Blore Heath, as far as ) ^ , „ , „ . 

.^ , ^ ^ ^1 T . ( Drayton s Folyolbwn, iion^ 22 ibQ 

It relates to Cheshire \ -^ j •: o :/ 

Legend of the Battle of Blore Heath 190 

Legend of Over Church Egci-ion Leigh 191 - 

Prophecy relating to Beeston Castle Lcland Lee 197 

Legend of Bebington Spire Egerton Leigh 199- 

\ A~otes and Queries , vol. v. ) 

Ballad of Lord Delamere .... 1 -^-^ 1-78 d -^4.8 S ^^^ 

The Landlady of the Blue Posts Inn Egerton Leigh 206 

Old Cheshire May Song . . . Commitnicatcd by George Orma-od 212 
Elegy on Bluecap, a Cheshire \ 

Hound. Double Acrostic \ ^S^rton Leigh 215 

Inscription on a Mhror in the \ _, „ ^^ , 

^11 f T^ ^ V J C R. E. Warbiirton 216 

Cloak-room of Knutsford } 

The Maiier's Song Egerton Ldgh 217 

Patiiotic Verses on ]\Iiddlewych Inn Signs . Sent by B. L, Vaiidrey 220 

The Dragon of Moston Egerton Leigh 223 

Ancient Cheshire Games . . Randle Holmes, MS. British Miiseiun 228 

The Gayton Wishing Well Egei-ton Leigh 230 

The Rostheme Bell D. Watts Ritssell 233 

The Curst Fisherman Egerton Leigh 236 

Cheshire May Song HalliiaeU's Palatine Anthology 239 

Prince Madoc's Hens : a Legend ) 

of Farndon Bridge S Ega-ton Leigh 242 

a 



xviii Contents. 



Sa^nmy Grice's Epitaph Veuahles 246 

Chorus of Foxes on Shakerley's Birthday .... Egerton Leigh 248 

There was a Jolly Miller lived on the River Dee. 1st Version . _ 250 

Ditto, 2nd Version . Chappeirs Popular Music of the Oldeii Time 251 

To my Countrimen of the Namptwiche .... Geffrey Whitney 255 
Congleton Bear Town, where they ) 

sold the Bible to buy a Bear \ Egerton Leigh 257 

_ \ Gentleman'' s Masrazine. vol. xxxv. , ) ^/-^ 

The Stage Coach ... ■ ^ t t^ ' [ 260 

° ( signed Jgnavum Fecus ) 

The Death Omen ; or, Brereton's Lake .... Egei'ton Leigh 262 

The Highwayman Outwitted by ) c- , 1 c^ i tt 1 j j? v a ^h, 

^T. 1 . T7 5 T-i w \ • Sent by John Harland, F.S.A. 267 

a Cheshire I* armer's Daughter ) -^ -^ ' ' 

Miss Weaver Egerton Leigh 270 

Cheshire May Song, copied from Memory By George Leigh of Lymm 275 

A Legend of Rostherne Mere Egerton Leigh 278 

The Iron Gate : a Legend of Alderley J. Roscoe 280 

The Downes' Blast Ega'ton Leigh 292 

The Verona Bogart Dr. Davies Colley 294 

The Island of the Cross Thomas LIughes 297 

Old Mynshull of Erdeswick Old Manuscript 305 

The Synagogue Well James Crossley, F.S.A, 309 

The Old Times of Cheshire Egerton Leigh 312 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Frontispiece. 

When the daughter is stolen, shut the Pepper- 
Gate 

Driving the Deer in Lyme Park 

The old Nutwoman 

The Skeleton Hand 

The Monk and Lady 

The Poet Drayton 

Arms borne by Cheshire Men at Agincourt . 

Nixon, the Cheshire Prophet 

Legend of Over Church 

The Dragon of Moston 

The Curst Fisherman 

Sammy Grice 

Legend of Rostherne Mere 



To face page 



27 ^ 
56- 
92^ 
Ii9>/ 
153 -^ 
155-- 
i75v^ 
i9iv^ 
223 V 
236 V 
246 V 
278 v-' 



LEGENDS, BALLADS, &c. 



Legend of the Constable Sands. 



[Taken from the ' Life of St. Werburghe,' translated by Henry Bradsha (Bradshaw), a 
Benedictine monk of St. Werbm-gh's Monasterj"^ in Chester, who died 1513. The ' Life 
of St. Werburghe ' was printed first in London in 1521 (Black Letter) ; of this edition onlj"- 
five copies are known to be extant. It was reprinted by the Chetham Society, 1848. 

It seems the Abbey of Norton was founded by William Fitznigell (the son of Nigel\ 
Baron of Haulton, in the year 12 10. The date of the legendary miracle would probably 
be a short time previous to that year. 

Throughout the poem, to produce anything like rhythmical intonation, the stress must 
be laid on the last syllable of each line, utterly irrespective of sense.] 



Howe sondes rose tip within the salt see agaynst Hilburgh.ee by 
Saynt Werburge, at the peticion of the Constable oj Chestre. 

HE seconde Erie of Chestre after the Conquest 
Was Erie Richard^ son to JItig. Lupus, 
^^^liche Richarde entended all thjoig to the best, 
To visite Saynt Winifrede in hert desirous, 
Upon his journey went, myn auctour sayth thus, 
Devoutly to holy well in pylgrimage, 
For his great merite and gostly advantage. 

B 




2 Legend of the Constable Sands, 



Whan the wicked Walshemeii herd of his comyng 
After a meke maner unto that party, 
They made insurrection inwardly gladdyng ; 
Descended from the mountaynes most furiously, 
Agaynst the erle raised a cruell company, 
Bytwxt hym and Chestre lettynge the kyngis way, 
Purposynge to slee or take hym for a praye. 

The erle son perceyved theyr malicious entent, 
In all hast possible sende to Chestre secretly, 
To wame his constable by love and commandment, 
Wyllya77i the son of Nigell^ to rayse a great anny 
To mete hym at Basyngwerke right sone and spedely. 
For his deliveraunce from deth and captivite 
Of the wyld Walshemen^ without humanite. 

The constable congregate in all goodly hast 
A myhty strong host, in theyr best arraye. 
Toward Hilburghee on journey ridyng fast, 
Trustyng upon shippes all them to convaye, 
Whiche was a riall rode that tyme, nyght and daye ; 
And whan they theder came, shyppyng none there was 
To carie all them over in convenient space. 

Alas ! what hert may thynke, or tonge well expresse, 
The dolorous grevaunce and great lamentacion 
That the host made, for love and tendernes, 
Knowynge their great maister in suche persecucion ? 
Some wept and wayled without consolacion, 
Some sighed and sobbed, some were in extasy 
Without perfect reason. Alas ! what remedy % 



Legend of the Constable Sands. 



Wyllyam the constable, most carefull man on lyve, 
Of his mysfortune in suche extreme necessite 
Called to hym a monke there dwellyng contemplatyve, 
Required hym for counsayle and prayer for his charite. 
The monke exhorted hym to knele upon his kne, 
Humbhe to beseke Werburge his patronesse 
For helpe and remedy in suche great distresse. 

The constable content, anone began to praye : 

' O blessed Werburge and virgin pure, 

I beseke the mekely helpe me this day, 

That we may transcende this ryver safe and sure, 

To save and defende my lord from discomfiture ; 

And here I promytte to God, and the alone. 

To offre to the a gyfte at my comyng whome.' 

Whyche prayer ended with wepyng and langour, 

Beholde and consydre well with your gostly ee 

The infinite goodness of our Saviour ; 

For like as to Moises devided the Redde See, 

And the water oi Jordan obeyed to Jostie, 

Ryht so the depe river of Dee made division. 

The sondes drye appered in syght of them echone. 

The constable consyderynge and all the company 
This great myracle transcendyng nature, 
Praysed and magnified our Lorde God Ahnygty, 
And blessed Werburge, the virgin pure. 
They vrent into Wales upon the sondes sure, 
Delivered their lorde from drede and enmite, 
Brought hym in safe garde agayne to Chestre cite. 
b2 



4 Legend o£ the Constable Sa7ids. 

The sayd Wyllyam constable came to the monasterye, 
Thanked Saynt Werburge with meke suppUcacion, 
Fulfylled his promes made in extremite, 
Offred to the place the village of Neuton. 
Afterward e he founded the abbay of Norton^ 
And where the host passed over betwix bondes 
To this day ben called the Constable Sondes. 





The Constable Sands. 

A slightly difFerent Version from the preceding Legend. 

PART I. 

HE Earl of Chester a pilgrimage went, — 
For he had vowed a dole 
For the good of his soul, — 
To St. Wmifred's well his steps he bent. 



Whilst prostrate at Winifred's shrine he lay, 

Confessed that the devil, 

The father of evil. 
Had tempted him sore for many a day ; 

Contrite resolved he would never again 

Do a thing that was wrong — 

That his Hfe might last long — 
Nor wilfully break even one of the Ten. 

But suddenly roused, he sprang to his feetj 

For his henchman appeared, 

And said that he feared 
A body of Welsh knaves, who filled the street, 



The Constable Sands. 



Were coming a prisoner the Earl to make : 

Finding he was alone, 

Or at most with but one, 
Was too good a chance for them not to take. 

PART II. 

Lord Richard turned, and daring fate. 

His trusty falchion drew ; 
To Basingwerksy near abbey gate. 

With lightning speed he flew. 

Yelled on the view the robber pack, 

And four before the rest, 
Pursuing hotly on his track, 

Behind his footsteps prest. 

Earl Richard thundered at the gate, 

And loud he blew his horn ; 
Up rushed the four, impelled by hate, 

Before the bolts were drawn. 

Through one the Earl his vengeful sword 

(As raised his arm) he drove ; 
The henchman, fighting near his lord. 

Another's headpiece clove. 

The third rushed up ; the Earl his hand 
Lopped off by backward blow ; 

The fourth drew back until his band 
Should join to crush their foe. 



The Constable Sands. 



The Earl and henchman passed the gate 
As the mad host foamed near : 

A moment more — they'd been too late 
The abbey's porch to clear. 

(The Lord of Hatton^ cross the Dee^ 

Was waiting for the Earl ; 
The trustiest constable was he 

Who did a flag unfurl.) 

As the Welsh thundered at the door, 
Like she-wolf robbed of whelp, 

The Earl with grief the flood-tide saw 
That severed him from help. 

The Welsh too see the flowing tide 
Rolled deep before their foe ; 

No timely aid from Cheshire side 
Can come across they know. 

The Earl spread signals to the breeze, 

To show he was betrayed, 
Then to St. Werburgh on his knees 

Thus help and mercy prayed : — 

PRAYER. 



' Holy St. Werburgh^ 
In danger to thee, 
Pressed hard by robbers, 
For refuge I flee. 



The Constable Sands. 



Thou canst show a way 
E'en o'er the deep wave : 
Without thee I die, 
Thy supphant save ! 
Hear now but my prayer, 
An abbey I'll found, 
Where monks through all time 
Thy praises shall sound.' 



PART III. 



Scarce had he ceased, when, raised from Deva's flood, 

A solid ledge of sand, 

Raised by St. Werhirgh's hand, 
Dry midst the waters like a stone wall stood ] 

Stretched from the Cambrian to Cheshire shore, 

As when the Red Sea gaped 

Y or Jews from Egypt 'scaped, 
When stiffened paused the waves' mighty roar. 

Up rose in haste the Lord of Hattoii?> men, 

And soon that Cheshire host 

The holy bridge had crost. 
Panicstruck fled the Welsh freebooters then. 

Earl Richard 's saved ! — and from that hour far famed 

St. Werhirgh's Bridge of Sand, 

Reared by his saintly hand, 
Has Constable Sands been most rightly named. 




The Spanish Lady's Love. 



ILL you hear a Spanish ladye, 

How she wooed an EngHsh man 1 
Garments gay and rich as may be, 
Decked with jewels, she had on. 
Of a comely countenance and grace was she, 
And by birth and parentage of high degree. 

As his prisoner there he kept her — 

In his hands her Hfe did lye — 
Cupid'?, bands did tie them faster 
By the liking of an eye. 
In his courteous company was all her joy \ 
To favour him in anything she was not coy. 

But at last there came commandment 

For to set the ladies free, 
With their jewels still adorned, 
None to do them injur}^ 
Then said the lady mild, ' Full woe is me \ 
Oh, let me still sustain this kind captivity ! 



lo The Spanish Lady's Love. 



* Gallant captain, show some pity 

To a lady in distress ; 
Leave me not within the city 
For to die in heavinesse. 
Thou hast this present day my body free, 
But my heart in prison still remains with thee.' 



HE. 

' How shouldst thou, fair lady, love me, 
Whom thou knowst thy country's foe 1 

Thy fair words make me suspect thee : 
Serpents lie where flowers grow.' 



SHE. 

* All the harm I wish to thee, most courteous knight, 
God grant the same upon my head may fully light. 

' Blest be the time and season 

That thou cam'st on Spanish ground ; 
If our foes you may be termed. 
Gentle foes we have you found. 
With our cytye, you have won our hearts each one ; 
Then to your country bear away what is your owne.' 

HE. 

' Rest you still, most gallant ladye, 

Rest you still, and weep no more ; 
Of fair lovers there are plenty — 
S/>am doth yield a wondrous store. 
Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find, 
But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind.' 



The Spanish Lady's Love. n 



SHE. 

' Leave me not unto a Spaniard \ 

You alone enjoy my heart. 
I am lovely, young, and tender j 
Love is likewise my desert. 
Still to serve thee day and night my heart is prest 
The wife of every Englishman is counted blest.' 



HE. 

' 'T would be a shame, fair ladye, 

For to bear a woman hence ; 
English soldiers never carry 

Any such without offence.' 

SHE. 

' 111 quickly change myself, if this be so, 

And hke a page I'll follow thee where'er you go. 



HE. 

' I have neither gold nor silver 

To maintain thee in this case \ 
And to travel is great charges. 

As you know, in every place.' 

SHE. 

' My chains and jewels every one shall be thine own, 
And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown. 



12 The Spanish Lady's Love. 



HE. 



' On the seas are many dangers, 
Many storms do there arise ; 

Which will be to ladies dreadful, 

And force tears from their bright eyes.' 



SHE. 

' Well, in troth, I should endure extremite, 

For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.' 

HE. 

* Courteous ladye, leave this fancie, 

Here comes all that breeds the strife, — 
I in England have already 

A sweet woman to my wife. 
I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain, 
Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain.'' 

SHE. 

* Ah ! how happy is that woman 

Who enjoys so true a friend ! 
Many happy days Godsondi her — 

Of my suit I make an end. 
On my knees I pardon crave for my offence. 
Which did from love and true affection first commence. 

' Commend me to thy loveHe ladye, 

Bear to her this chain of gold. 
And these bracelets for a token, 

Grieving that I was so bold. 



The Spanish Lady's Love. 13 



All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee, 
For they are fitting for thy wife, and not for me. 

' I will spend my days in prayer, 
Love and all her wiles defye ; 
In a nunnery I will shroud me, 
Far from any companye. 
But e'er my prayers do end, be sure of this, 
To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss. 

' Thus farewell, most gallant captain ! 

Farewell , too, my heart's content ! 
Count not Spanish ladies wanton, 

Though to thee my love was bent. 
Joye and true prosperite go ever with thee!' 

HE. 

' The lyke fall ever to thy share, most faire ladye 



Sir Uryan Legh (the Spanish Ladye's lover?) was the son of Thomas Legh of 
AdHngton, and was knighted by the Earl of Essex at the siege of Cadiz (Sept. 1596). 
It was during this expedition he was said to have been engaged in the adventure which 
gave rise to the ballad. The original portrait of Sir Uryan Legh, in a Spanish dress, 
still exists at Bramhall (Colonel Davenport's old hall). Sir Uryan was High Sheriff of 
Cheshire, A.D. 1613. 



THE SPANISH LADY. 



^^^^ 



S 



Will you hear 



-T-r 



Span-ish 



la - dye, 



t=dt 



How she 



■(-- 



H 



The Spanish Lady. 



J^JL-, .-- .^ 



12:^: 






r^ 



-*- 



Garments gay and rich 



wooed an Eng-lish man? 



flr^ 



:f^=e: 



if-zS: 



S 



at=^ 



--^^ 



^ 



3t^: 



^■^ 



^^^m 



31=^: 



e- 



r 



may be, Decked with jew 



Ki^e 



els, she had 



:^z=;i: 



n +t It 1 


^ 


Fj 


r *— 1 


JOjL_ — I 


r^ ^ 


w 


_j j^:]:!!^ J — J . 


rfy-* — «t-^ 


— a."-^— fl 


^^_ 


— -1— ^— * — « — s 


Iv ) l' - 


^ J ^ ^ 


on. 


Of a come - ly 


^ 4 J, 

coun - te - nance and grace was 
, ^ 


^'^f^—f- • 1 \ 


— F r 


\jL^ it I i 1 


1 




•^ ^ 






she, And by birth and pa -rent - age of high de - gree. 



m. 



rt 



11*=^ 



*. ' I. ..11 ' 



Cheshire Cavalry, 



[Composed whilst at Liverpool by John Hayward, of Stamford Bridge, 
private in the Forest Troop.] 




OME, all you British heroes, and listen to my song, 
To these few lines I here have penned ; they won't 

detain you long. 
It's concerning of the yeomanry regimental orders 
— they 
Who marched into Liverpool on the twenty-eighth of May. 

CHORUS. 

So let the trumpet sound as we march along the way ; 

And we marched into Liverpool on the twenty-eighth of May, 

And we marched into Liverpool all on a Saturday. 

The Cheshire Yeoman Cavalry are men of high renown, 
Give credit to their country and honour to their crown ; 
When mounted on their warlike steeds to Liverpool we'll go. 
Along with Colonel Ege^^toJi, that valiant hero. 



And when the time does come our country for to leave, 
Behold our wives and sweethearts, how they lament and grieve ! 
' Good by, my loving daddy ! ' — this is the children's cries : 
Their mothers they receive them with tears in their eyes. 



i6 Cheshire Cavalry. 

Behold our loving sweethearts, they know not what to do ; 
But soldiers they prove loyal, constant, and true. 
We give to them a loving kiss : ' Farewell, love \ don't complain, 
And I will marry you, my dear, when I return again.' 

Sir Philip is our captain, at Oulton he doth dwell ; 
We thank him for his kind treat — the truth I do tell ; 
With roast beef and plum-pudding, and everything at large, 
On the north shore at Liverpool he led us to the charge. 

There is Lieutenant Palin^ a-mounted on his grey. 

And when he draws his broadsword, he boldly clears the way ; 

Likewise Cornet Potts — he is both straight and tall ; 

He 's willing for to serve the Queen, when on him she doth call. 

There is Captain Hill, our adjutant, a hero bold you know ; 
He boldly fought at Waterloo, and faced the daring foe ; 
He boldly fought with sword in hand till victory was won, 
He let that tyrant for to know he was true £ritai7t's son. 

There is Quartermaster Oulton \ he ordered in our corn — 
He is a noble forester, for in it he was born ; 
He saw us righted in our weight, I will make bold to say, 
When we arrived at Liverpool on the twenty-eighth of May. 

There is Sergeant-Major Walker — the truth I do tell; 
He boldly fought at Waterloo, where many thousands fell. 
He says, ' My boys, be steady !— you can if you will' 
On Monday we expected to have a heavy drill. 



Cheshire Cavalry. 17 



The composer of this song rides Mr. Falin'?, grey ; 
'Twas in the year forty-one from the ranks he broke away. 
The troopers they would have laughed j but, fear they should be 

fined, 
Says Corporal Jenkins, ' There he goes, and leaves them all 

behind.' 

Now let a health go round : let's drink to our Queen ; 
The second to our Colonel, a bumper to the brim; 
The third to all our officers, in station what they be ; 
The fourth unto the Cheshire lads — they'll fight for liberty. 

So now my song is ended ; I hope it proves in rhyme ; 

I might it much amended, if I had a Uttle time ; 

I might it much amended, but being near noon, 

So we marched out of Liverpool, all on the fourth oi June. 

CHORUS. 

So let the trumpets sound a merry, merry tune, 

As we march out of Liverpool, all on the fourth of J^ine. 



The Earl of Chester's Yeonianrj' Cavalry, till of late years, used always to meet at 
Liverpool, not at Chester, as at present. 




Legend of Chester. 

When the daughter is stolen shut the Pepper Gate.' — Old Cheshire Proverb. 



PART L 




HERE was a mayor's daughter in Chester'^ old town 
The fairest of maidens who e'er donned a gown ; 
Her father's sole child — save her he had none. 
When he kissed her fair brow, he ne'er sighed for a 
But somehow he forgot that a maid of eighteen [son, 

Is grown up ; for fathers don't think oft, I ween, 
That the time steals on fast when young girls, 'tis feared. 
Are wont to change dolls for a man with a beard. 
And his friends used to say, when they saw her wild ways, 
* Ah ! she'll give him the slip one of these fine days.' 
Oh ! how lovely she was ! her skin was as fair 
As the flowers in the Kailyards.^ that garland the pear ; 
Her voice soft and clear as a musical bell. 
Though on many ears of her lovers it fell 
As the note of despair, and their fondest hope's knell. 
No youth who'd e'er gazed on her face, you'd suppose. 
Had ever before seen a maiden like Rose ; 
She charmed all, at once : 'twas not only her face, 
But a certain most indescribable grace ; 




WHEN THE DAUGHTER IS STOLEN, SHUT THE PEPPER GATE. 



Legend of Chester. 19 



A * je ne sais quoi/ as the Frenchman would say, 
Which in spite of themselves stole all hearts away. 
Her long curhng tresses, though dark as the night. 
When kissed by the sunbeam shone golden with light. 
Her eyes of that sort, should she once glance at you, 
You'd for ever to all peace of mind bid adieu ; 
You'd fancy all day you felt those flashing eyes ; 
In dreams those same looks would your pillow surprise. 
She was not that species of daughter you see, 
Whom parents dare hope long for them would make tea. 
She'd a will of her own ; and t'was whispered about, 
There was one of her lovers whom she did not flout. 
A certain Welsh knight, with a long pedigree, 
Was often seen crossing the bridge o'er the Dee. 
The Chester old ladies declared he was poor j 
This might be scan. mag. that was laid at his door : 
But whatever might be the state of \i\?>purse^ 
His perso7i the lady liked never the worse. 
He was not the man to whom fair maids might say 
That most disagreeable of short words, called Nay. 
Young, noble, and handsome, a devil-may-care, 
With the brain to conceive, and the brave heart to dare ; 
Amongst men, a lion ; with ladies, a lamb ; 
A look that said, laughing, ' Refuse me who can % ' 
Deeds fullest of danger he loved most to face ; 
(As surgeons gloat over some desperate case). 
Woman's weakness makes woman delight in the strong. 
The fairest thus 'tis to the bravest belong. 
loose's father (whose wealth and estates were untold) 
Hated penniless sons-in-law ; would have looked cold 
On lover half Bayard^ half Solomon, who 

c 2 



20 Legend of Chester. 



Might be an Apollo and Hercules too, 

Should he, without gold, dare his daughter to woo ; 

And perhaps have preferred a rich chieftain of cowards 

To dipoor man whose veins boiled with blood of the Howards. 

It is lucky for some men, if not for the fair. 

Papas don't choose always for daughters a pair. 



FART II. 

Mtxxil^ ^xwiltii l^t trctug morn, 

^ZKX Pepper ^Ktt raitfl ottt a ]^0rn, 
It ^0xmtretr rf)eerilg. 

i^^j-^ and young friends are met to play, 
And while the sunny hours away. 
Hither and thither flies the ball; 
Maidens on maidens bHthely call, 
Chasing the orb through Pepper Street 
With waving hands and bounding feet. 

i^errtlg ^mtlelJ ^t tfelag mnnt, 

§.twc pepper (Sate ratifl nut a ]^0rn, 
St jSuuntretr cl)eertly. 

Backwards and forwards bounds the ball, 
Pursued by nymphs it leaps the wall ; 
Through Pepper Gate in crowds they run ; 
Back to the street the ball is flung ; 
Hotter and hotter grows the fun. 



Legend of Chester. 21 



^^ar Pcjpp^c (©ate rang 0ut a l^orn, 

PART III. 

Where's Rose % Her comrades turn and look, 

As when Pluto Proserpine took 

To shades below with his four-in-hand, 

When she strayed lost in flowery land \ 

For there was Rose en croupe behind 

The young Welsh knight, nor looked unkind. 

No rose (they say) but has a thorn. 

He looked as smiling as the mom, 

Howe'er that be, and blew his horn. 

His charger prancing o'er the Dee^ 

The weight unfelt, aghast they see. 

Knight and lady were out of sight ; 

Echo of hoofs was silent quite ; 

Yet gazed her friends like startled deer : 

Their thoughts I know not, but I fear 

That on love-subjects maids oft are 

Antagonistic to papa. 

At length all 'gan at once to talk 

(A real lapsus linguarum) lauk 

Our Chester damsels set at naught 

The law in some Scotch household taught. 

This was the rule — ' That at one time 

No more should speak than women nine.^ 

' Why, Rose is off ! ' — ' / always said 

In reg'lar way she'd never wed.' — 



22 Legend of Chester. 

' She'll lead them a terrible dance.' — 

'There's an end to my brother's chance.'— 

' Oh, what a bore ! she always said 

That I should be her first bridesmaid.' — 

' Dear me, what a goose ! she'll have no trousseau. '- 

' I wonder how ever she could do so.' — 

' He's very good-looking.' — ' And a knight.' — 

* He's as poor as y^?^.' — 'They're out of sight.' — 
' My dear, he springs from gentle blood.' — 

' Those heiresses ne'er come to good ! ' — 

* Heiress ! her chance of fortune's small.' — 
' I don't agree with you at all' — 

' I'd run away myself.' — ' For shame ! ' — 

' Then he has such a pretty name ! ' — 

' Who'll get the gowns she's left behind % ' — 

* Will her father be long unkind % ' — 

' He will.' — ' He won't.' — ' She'll on her knees 

Say, Father, kiss your Rosy^ please.' — 

' All be forgiven and forgot' — 

' You don't know what a sire she's got' — 

' I saw the knight give Rose a kiss.' — 

' How far d'ye think they've got by this % ' — 

' Oh ! she was merry as a lark.' — 

' mow Jo/i?i admired her tresses dark ! ' — 

' Should you call her so very fair % ' — 

' Dear me ! who will dress her back hair ? ' — 

' I wonder, when they come back here, 

If my mamma will call on her? ' — 

' They say he's wild as mountain hawk.' — 

' My word, there'll be a pretty talk.' — 



Legend of Chester. 23 



* Which of us dare her father tell 

That his loved Rose^ our Chester belle, 

Is o'er the hills and far away ? 

Stormy end to our sunny day.' — 

Bad news flies fast, and Chester's mayor 

At once began his locks to tear, 

Bustled for nothing here and there. 

Oh ! how he blest that Lochinvar ! 

Swore his daughter he'd ne'er forgive ! 

Vowed her lover should never live ! 

Declared his wealth he'd leave the poor, 

Nor Rose should never cross his door. 

He summoned his friends. Say what to do? 

Was it the fond pair to pursue ? 

No, neither he nor friends could ride, 

And no horses had they beside, 

To bring back Rose a contrite nun 

Before the words could be said or sung 

That makes at once of two hearts one. 

Did he call out the archer guard 

To stop the knight with swift cloth-yard 1 

No — aldermen in solemn state 

At the To\vn Hall in council sate j 

They hear their mayor his foul wrongs state. 

The case is put \ it seemed quite clear 

That the mayor's daughter {Rosy dear) 

Could not through Pepper Gate have run 

Had not the bars been left undone. 

They pass a law to close the gate 

Through which the mid Rose sought her mate. 



24 



Legend of Chester. 



The townsmen smile : say they, ' What for, 
When steed is gone, close stable door % 
When stolen the daughter,, all too late 
It is to close the Pepper Gate.' 



The fruit-gardens outside the walls at Chester are called the Kailyards. 

An old Welsh lullaby seems to allude to some such match as that described in the 
preceding verses. 

Gurru, Gurru, Gurru i' Gaer, 
I briodi merch y Maer. 
i.e. Trotting, trotting, trotting to Chester 
To marry the Mayor's daughter. 



Playing at ball was a common sport for grown-up ladies in auld lang syne. In the 
ballad of ' The Brave Earl Brand ' is the following : 

Now where is the lady of this hall ? 

She's out with her maids a playing at the ball. 

Again, the ballad of ' Barbara Livingston ' begins thus : 

Four-and-twenty ladies fair 

Were playing at the ba', 
And out came Margaret Livingston 

The flower amang them a'. 

Another old ballad, ' The Cruel Brother,' or the ' Bride's Testament,' begins thus : 

There were three ladies played at the ba' 

With a heigho and a lily gay. 
There came a knight and played o'er them a', 

As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 




Raster Song, 



Sung by the children in the Wirral when they come round ^ Pace Egging.^ 




LEASE, Mr. Whiteley, 

Please give us an Easter tgg. 
If you do not give us one 
Your hen shall lay an addled one, 
Your cock shall lay a stone. 




Old M.ab\ Curse, 



Tradition of the MynshuU family. 




• Sir, — There is a tradition in our family which has never been printed. I therefore send 
you a copy. I am a descendant of the ' pius ' lady whose threat has been so prophetic, 
that, although allied to many of the best Cheshire and Lancashire families, and many 
broad acres once claimed us as their masters, not a single yard or brick can we now 
boast in either county. 

* John B. Minshull.* 

ABEL?, dole of pius fame, 

From royal blude they say she kame. 
Poor and needee foulkes doe telle 
The Mynshulles land no one dare selle ; 
For ' old MaV^ curse ' on hym wold lighte 
That e'er should selle lande, stone, or bighte : 
His house shall come to povertee. 
Until another Mab wee see, 
Gentries rounde thys globe shalle rolle 
Upon its axis on the pole, 
Ere Mynshulles house againe shall thryve. 
For selhng ' MaU?, ' lande, huts, and style. 
Such penance shalle his sons longe suffer, 
And thanke the Virgin 'tis no rouffer. 
Blest be the son of all its race 
Who thus Mab\ dole shall replace. 



William de Mynshulle, somewhere about the time of Edward I., married Mabella, 
daughter of Thomas de Erdeswick. This is the only ' Mab ' I find in the pedigree of 
the family.— Ed. 




DRIVING THE DEER IN LYME PARK. 



The Loves of Sir Robert Barton and 
Margery Legh. 

A Tale of Lyme. 



PART I. 




LOATED a lay on the evening air, 
A lay of the blithest melodie, 
And never reclined a form more fair 
Than sang thus under the greenwood tree. 

II. 
' Oh, I love to roam o'er the bright green lea, 
Where the birds carol wildly, and all is free — 
To follow the course of the murmuring brooks 
Through their quiet glens and their shady nooks. 

III. 
^ I love to track the purple moor, 

And gather the heather bells. 
And seek within for the tiny forms 

That sport in their fairy cells. 



28 The Loves of Sir Robert Barton 



IV. 

' I love to gaze on the sunlit spray 
That plays o'er lichened rocks, 

And the hue of every gem and flower 
In varied beauty mocks. 



V. 

* The forest glades have charms for me : 
I love in their shady bowers 

To while away the livelong day, 

And dream through the fleeting hours. 



VI. 

* And I will roam through the woodland green, 

Or on mossgrown bank recline. 
There's never knight in this land, I ween. 

Hath claims on this heart of mine. 



VII. 

' I'll ever be a gladsome maid. 
And Ust to no lover's tongue \ 

There's never knight in this countrie 
^hall hold me a captive long.' — 



VIII. 

' Right bravely said ! ' Thus a knight's voice rang 

Quite close to the maiden's ear ; 
' But, an thou do this, no priest will shrive 

Thee of broken hearts, I fear.' — 



and Margery Legh. 29 



IX. 

' I shall be ladye of many lands/ 

Quoth she, ' that shall be mine own.' — 

' But what will thy broadlands do for thee 
When thou shalt be sad and lone 1 



X. 

* O fleetly may pass the summer hour, 
And short is pleasure's day ; 

But when winter comes, the wintry frost 
Will turn those dark locks gray.' — 



XI. 

' Now, call you gallantry this, sir knight, 

A maid thus to annoy 1 
To speak to her of the lonesome night 

Whilst all her days are joy? 



XII. 

' And dost call thyself a gallant knight 

To tell me this at Lymel 
To frighten me with cold winter's blight 

All in my summer's prime '? ' — 

XIII. 

' Not always in summer's dress divine, 

A maiden blithe and free, 
Thou wilt on the soft sward thus recline 

Under the greenwood tree.' — 



30 The Loves of Sir Robert Barton 



XIV. 

' Oh troth, art thou not a doleful knight, 

And croakest ruefullie % 
And thinkest thou thus to win the heart 

Of bhthesome Margaret Legh ? ' 

XV. 

Then up she sprang, and she left her lute 

Under the greenwood tree ; 
Alone with quick step she sought the hall ; 

The knight sighed pensivelie. 

PART 11. 

Hark ! hark ! what mean those yells and shouts- 

Those footsteps clattering near % 
On, on with whirlwind rush they come, 

The bounding wild red deer. 

II. 
A moment's pause, then in they plunge 

Deep midst the watery surge, 
And lave their flanks in th' ice-cold flood, 

Reluctant to emerge; 

III. 

But spurred on by pursuers' cries. 

Dash up the sedgy shore, 
Shake from their sides the dripping spray. 

Then rush on as betore. 



and Margery Legh, 31 



IV. 

Now fiercer grown, they madly bound 
O'er hill, through brake, o'er plain ; 

Behind they leave the distanced throng, 
The deepest shades to gain. 

V. 

Their flashing blood-shot eyes now tell 
How mad has grown their wrath; 

The boldest wight in all that crowd 
Would fear to cross their path. 

FART III. 

I. 
A maiden and a knight reclined 

Under the greenwood tree, 
"When a rushing sound is heard behind 

Advancing rapidly. 

II. 
On sprang the deer with rapid bound, 

Their wild eyes flashing fire; 
A stag of ten his antlers lowered 

To vent on them his ire. 

III. 
Upsprang at once that stalwart knight 

To save the fainting fair ; 
The beast rushed on in fury's might, 

Like tiger from his lair. 



32 The Loves of Sir Robert Barton 



IV. 

The death-sick maiden swooned away ; 

The knight his falchion dyed 
In the heart's blood of maddened foe, 

As the antler pierced his side ! 



V. 

See from the torn and gaping wound 

Life's blood is welling fast ; 
And deadly pale the brave knight turned, 

And sank to earth at last. 



VI, 

Slowly the maiden oped her eyes, 
And gently raised her head ; 

The knight lay stretched out by her side, 
Close by the red deer dead. 



VII. 

The trickling blood she tried to staunch. 
That gushed fast from his side ; 

' How have I scorned thy faithful love ! 
To save me^ thou hast died ! ' 



VIII. 

Too late retainers hurry round ; 
With grief the sight they see ; 
The knight they bear unto the hall, 
' And soon the leech came he. 



and Margery Legh. 33 



PART IV. 

I. 

Long, long, Sir Robert Barton lay 

His life in jeapordie, 
And ever by his side was seen 

The weeping Margaret Legh. 

11. 
And when at length his sense returned. 

The glance that met his own 
Soon spoke of what the maiden felt, 

The love she durst not own. 



III. 
That glance restored his fleeting hfe, 

And when his suit he pressed, 
The maid looked down, and sobbing hid 

Her blushes on his breast. 

IV. 

' Well wot I that thou lovest me well. 
And wouldest for me have died ; 

Oh take me to thy noble heart — 
Thy loving wilHng bride.' 

v. 
More brightly green now seemed the woods, 

More brightly green the lea ; 
The leaves shone brighter in the sun, 

All on the greenwood tree. 

D 



34 The Loves of Sir Robert Barton 



VI. 

The heather bell more purple hung 
Dn the fresh breezy moor ; 

The lavrock carolled forth his song- 
More blithely than before. 



VII. 

With rainbow colours shone the dew, 
Kissed by the warm sunshine ; 

The lichened rocks shewed softer hue, 
Sweeter the eglantine. 



VIII. 

But sweeter than the eglantine, 

Or rose that dewdrop sips, 
Was Margery'^ breath. Sir Robei't vowed, 

Oft as he pressed her lips. 

IX. 

Her beaming eyes were loveher far 

Than blue of cloudless sky \ 
Her gladsome voice more charmed his ear 

Than lavrock soaring high. 

X. 

The scented sigh of th' evening breeze 
Stole through the greenwood tree. 

And seemed in murmurs soft to bless 
The knight and Margery, 



and Margery Legh. 35 



Margery (daughter of Sir Peter Legh of Lyme and Haydock, knighted by Henry VIII.) 
married Sir Robert Barton of Smithill's Hall, near Bolton, to whose family it came by 
the marriage of Joan, sole heiress of Sir Rafe Radcliffe, with Robert Barton Esq. of 
Holme. 



The ancient custom of driving the red deer through the water at Lyme has for several 
years been in abeyance. 



Wilson, the historian, gives a curious account of his providential escape whilst stag- 
hunting, when a youth and follower of the Earl of Essex, as follows : — 

' Sir Peter Legh of Lyme, in Cheshire, invited my lord to hunt the stagg ; and having 
a great stagg in chase and many gentlemen in pursuit, the stagg took soyle, and divers 
(whereof I was one) alighted, and stood with our swords drawne, to have a cut at him at 
his coming out of the water. The staggs there being wonderfully fierce and dangerous, 
made us youths more eager to be at him. But he escaped us all. And it was my mis- 
fortune to be hindered of my coming neare him, the waye being slipperie, by a falle : 
which gave occasion to some one who did not knowe mee to speake as if I had fallen 
through feare, which being told mee I left the stagg and followed the gentleman who 
first spoke it. But I founde him of that cold temper that it seemed his words made an 
escape from him, as by his denial and repentance it appeared. But this made mee more 
violent in the pursuit of the stagg, to recover my reputation. And I happened to be the 
onlie horseman in, when the dogs sett him up at bay, and approaching neare him on 
horsebacke he broke through the dogs and ran at mee, and tore my horse's side with his 
homes close by my thighe. Then I quitted my horse, and grewe more cunning (for the 
doggs had set him up againe) ; stealing behind him with my .sworde and cut his ham- 
strings, and then got upon his backe and cut his throate, which as I was doing the 
companie came up and blamed my rashness for running such a hazard.' 




1)2 



The Old Brown Forest, 




ROWN forest of Mara ! whose bounds were of yore 
From Kellshorrows castle outstretched to the shore, 
Our fields and our hamlets afforested then 
That thy beasts might have covert, unhoused were 
our men. 



II. 



Our king the first William^ Hugh Lupus our earl. 
Then poaching I ween was no sport for a churl : 
A noose for his neck who a snare should contrive, 
Who skinned a dead buck was himself flayed alive. 



III. 



Our Normandy nobles right dearly I trow 

They loved in the forest to bend the yew bow; 

They wound their ' recheat ' and their ' mort ' on the horn. 

And they laughed the rude chase of the Saxon to sconi. 



IV. 



In right of his bugles and greyhounds to seize 

Waif, pannage, ajistment, and wind-fallen trees. 

His knaves through our forest Ralph Kijigsley dispersed, 

Bov/-bearer in chief to Earl Randle the first. 



The Old Brown Forest. 37 



V. 

This horn the grand forester wore at his side 
Whene'er his Uege lord chose a hunting to ride : 
By Sir Ralph and his heirs for a century blown, 
It passed from their Hps to the mouth of a Done. 

VI. 

Oh then the proud falcon, unloosed from the glove, 
Like her master below played the tyrant above ; 
While faintly, more faintly, were heard in the sky 
The silver-toned bells as she darted on high. 

VII. 

Then, roused from sweet slumber, the ladie highborn 
Her palfrey would mount at the sound of the horn ; 
Her palfrey uptossed his rich trappings in air 
And neighed with delight such a burden to bear. 



VIII. 

Versed in all woodcraft and proud of her skill, 

Her charms in the forest were lovelier still j 

The abbot rode forth from the abbey so fair, 

Nor loved the sport less when a bright eye was there. 



IX. 

Thou Palatine prophet ! whose fame I revere 
(Woe be to that bard who speaks ill of a seer), 
Forewarned of thy fate, as our legends report 
Thou wert born in a forest and ' clemmed ' in a court. 



38 The Old Brown Forest. 



X. 

Now goading thine oxen, now urging amain 
Fierce monarchs to battle on BoswortJi^ red plain ; 
' A foot with two heels and a hand with three thumbs '— 
Good luck to the land when this prodigy comes ! 

XI. 

' Steeds shall by hundreds seek masters in vain 
Till under their bellies their girths rot in twain ! ' 
'Twill need little skill to interpret this dream 
When o'er the Brown Forest we travel by steam. 

XII. 

Here hunted the Scot whom, too wise to shew fight, 
No war save the war of the woods could excite : 
His learning they say did his valour surpass. 
Though a hero when armed with a couteau de chasse. 

XIII. 

Ah then came the days when to England''^ disgrace 

A king was her quarry and warfare her chase : 

Old Noll for their huntsman ! a Puritan pack ! 

AVith psalms on their tongues but with blood on their track. 

XIV. 

Then Charlie our king was restored to his own, 
And again the blithe horn in the forest was blown ; 
Steeds from the desert then crossed the blue wave 
To contend on our turf for the prizes he gave, 



The Old Brown Forest. 39 



XV. 

Ere Bhiecap and Wantofi taught foxhounds to scurry 

With music in plenty. Oh where was the hurry ? 

When each nag wore a crupper, each squire a pigtail, 

When our toast, ' the Brown Forest ! ' was drunk in brown ale. 



XVI. 

The fast ones come next with a wild fox in view, 
'■ Ware hole ! ' was a caution then heeded by few ; 
Opposed by no cops, by no fences confined, 
O'er winbush and heather they swept like the wind. 

XVII. 

Behold in the soil of our forest once more 
The sapling takes root as in ages of yore. 
The oak of old England with branches outspread, 
The pine tree above them uprearing his head. 



XVIII. 

Where twixt the whalebones the widow sat down 
Who forsook the Black Forest to dwell in the Brown ; 
There, where the flock on sweet herbage once fed. 
The blackcock takes wing, and the fox-cub is bred. 

XIX. 

This timber the storms of the ocean shall weather. 
And sail o'er the waves as we sailed o'er the heather j 
Each plant of the forest, when launched from the stocks, 
May it run down a foeman as we do a fox. 



40 The Old Brown Forest. 



Stanza 4. The master forestership of the whole was conferred by Randle I., in the 
twelfth century, on Ralph de Kingsley, to hold the same by the tenure of a horn. Amongst 
other perquisites claimed by the master forester were the following : ' And claymeth to 
have the latter pannage in the said forest, and claymeth to have windfallen wood ; he 
claymeth to have all money for agistment of hogs within the said forest .... and as 
to wayfe, he claymeth to have every wayfe and stray beast as his own, after proclamation 
shall be made, and not challenged as the manner is.' — Orvierod, vol. ii. p. 52. 

Stanza 5. * When'er his liege lord chose a hunting to ride,' &c. Cheshire tradition 
asserts that the ancient foresters were bound to use this horn, and attend in their office 
with two white greyhounds, whenever the earl was disposed to honour the Forest of 
Delamere with his presence in the chase. — Ormerod, vol. ii. p. 33. 

Stanza 5. ' It passed from their lips to the mouth of a Done.' The Dones of Utkuylon 
succeeded the Kingsleys, or chief foresters. On the termination of this line in 1715, the 
forestership passed to Richard Ardune, and through him to the Lords Alvanley. 

Stanzas 9, 10, 11. Refer to Robert Nixon and his prophecies. 

Stanza 12. ' Here hunted the Scot,' &c. King James I. 

Stanza 15. ' Ere Bluecap and Wanton,' &c. Two Cheshire hounds. — Vide vol. i. p. 212, 
Da7iieVs Rural Sports. 

Stanza 17. * Behold on the soil of our forest once more,' &c. By the Act of Parliament 
passed in 18 12 for the enclosure of Delamere Forest, one moiety of the whole is appro- 
priated as a nursery for timber. 

Stanza 18. ' ^Vhere twixt the whalebones the widow sat down.' Maria Holingsworth, 
a Gennan, the widow of an English soldier. She built herself a hut near two ribs of a 
whale in Delamere Forest, where she lived many years. For an account of her curious 
life, vide ' Notes of a Lady of Quality.' 



The district extending from the banks of the Mersey to the south boundary of the late 
forest was designated as the Forest of Mara, whilst that of Mondrem stretched in the 
direction of Nantwich. 



Ja 




The Mayor of Chester^ Speech to 
mes /. on his Return out of Scotland^ 

A.D. 1617. 

REAT kinge, to bidd thee welcome behold I 
Doe speake, although my mouthe stand by ; 
I'le doe my best, but hee can doe much better ; 
Hee is book-learned, I ne'er knew a letter. 
When yesterday the post did tideings bringe 
That I sholde see you here (our royall kinge), 
For my part into an ague I did falle, 
And greatehe gloppened were my brethren all, 
But least your Ma*i® shold think us slacke, 
Each one of us did take a pinte of sacke, 
Armour of proof, the best thinge wee colde find 
To cheare our heartes and ease a trobled mind. 
We went about to muster upp our forces. 
To meet you at Botone ; but we wanted horses. 
Our foote cloathes also by ratts and mice offended, 
In soe short space cold not be patched and mended. 
Therefore this stage that holdes us here at large 
Was wisely founded at the cittyes chardge. 
These men in scarlett whom you plainlie see 
Have been in this place of Ma*^®, 
The other in purple gownes that doe appeare 
Are like to weare my stuffe another yeare. 



42 The Mayor of Chester ^ Speech. 



The streets as you doe pass on either hand 

Are sweetHe flored w*^ gravell and w*^ sand ; 

The conduit at y® Crosse if you marke well, 

Is newlie painted, you may know by th' smell. 

The place against it is the place where I 

Doe sit in all my pompe and dignitie, 

Wliile I doe justice, be itt right or wronge, 

To the rich or poore, or old or younge. 

St. Feter'?, Church, where I am often scene, 

Stands neare unto itt, it's but a leape betweene ; 

Where ev'ry Sunday to my poore power, 

Sleeping and waking, I do stand an hower. 

Your grace may see our horses have had spungeing, 

And eke your wine shal be wi*^out blundring ; 

Butt in this one thinge pray by me be rul'd. 

Doe not drinke of itt untill it be mul'd. 

But if you see itt looke blue on either side, 

Then supp it up, you need no other guide. 

Our citty is not rich, yett God be thanked 

W% no small chardge we have p'cured a banquett, 

Fowre pound it cost, besides I am afraid 

The carriage of it down is yett unpaid. 

If you had come to dinner, w^^out boast 

You shold have eate w*^ mee both sodd and roast. 

For though I sale itt, I could have let you loose 

Into ye flanke of a fatt stubble goose. 

A cupp with gold unto your grace I'le bringe, 

In hope to us you'le give a better thinge. 

For I'le be sworne itt did goe neare our heart 

When from so manie gold angells wee did parte. 



The Mayor of Chester^ Speech. 43 



But much good doe it you we'le neare repent, 

Since they are gone^ they might have been worse spent. 

Some say of mee you meane to make a knight, 

Rather take a haltar and hang mee outright, 

That it may nere be said it came to passe 

That you bestowed it upon Balaam'^ asse : 

Therefore I humbUe crave I may goe free. 

And give itt to the Maior of Coventree. 

Thus from my speech abrupthe I will breake, 

If yowle knowe more, heare the Recorder speake. 



Line 2. ' Mouthe ' means Recorder. 

Line 14. ' Botone.' Boughton, a suburb of Chester. 

Line 19. ' These men in scarlett,' &c. Aldermen who have been mayors. 

Line 21. ' The other in purple gownes,' &c. Aldermen who have never been mayors. 

Line 23. 'The streets as you doe passe,' &c. In the churchwarden's accounts of the 
Holy Trinity parish at Chester, a.d. 1617, is the following item : ' For rushes and sand, 
23rd August, to straw the street before the church against our precious Soveraine Lord 
King James, his comming to the citty with manie of his nobles the same daye in th' 
aftemoone. Holmes Man, No. 2177, Harl. Bibl.' In an old ballad (Childe Vyet) we find 
mention made of strewing the streets with gravel on grand occasions. 

Tween Mary Kirk and that castle 

Was all spread o'er with garl. 
To keep the lady and her maidens 

From tramping on the marl. 

Line 46. 'Sodd.' Sodden, i.e. boiled. 

Line 55. ' Some say of mee you meane to make a knight,' &c. Charles Fytton (by others 
called Mutton) was Mayor at the time of the royal visit in 1617, and refused an offered 
knighthood. On Tuesday, August 21, 1617, King James I. came to Chester. The Mayor 
and Aldermen took their places on a scaffold, railed and hung about with green, and there 
in a most grave and seemly manner they awaited the arrival of his Majestie. At which 
time, after a learned speech delivered by the Recorder, the Mayor presented to the King 
a fair standing cup with a cover double gilt, and therein an hundred Jacobusses in gold. 
The King attended a sumptuous banquet, prepared at the city cost, which, being ended, 
the King departed to Vale Royal. At his departure the order of knighthood was offered 
to Mr. Edward Mutton, the Mayor, but he refused the same. The name, it appears, was 
Button, not Mutton. Hopkinson has preserved in his manuscripts the above satirical 
account of this visit in verse. ' After the banquet (according to Webb) the King made the 
house of Vale Royal his royal court, where he solaced himself for four days, and took 
pleasing entertainment in his disports in the Forest.' 



Cheshire Recipes for Hooping-Cough. 




HE Chin-cotigh we call it in Cheshire you know, 
Where they cure it with divers recipes in toto. 
Some most curious are roast hedgehog ! fried mice ! 
But neither of these you may look on as nice. 
Then some hold a live frog quite close to their hps, 
'Tis said the frog thus from them hooping-cough sips. 
An old crone grumbled once, ' Her lad's cough would not go. 
Though he'd sucked two toads to death.' She really said so. 
Here's another recipe — you must find out a dame 
Who, though she has married, has not changed her name. 
At once you must ask bread and butter from her : 
This, they say, of all cures is the sovereign cure. 



' Perhaps no diseases, except epilepsy and the ague, have more curious, local, and 
peculiar cures than exist for hooping-cough. A preventive for it in Ireland is to pass the 
child three times under the belly of an ass, muttering a prayer at the same time addressed 
to our Saviour and his mother. In Gloucestershire a small quantity of hair taken from 
the nape of the child's neck, then rolled up in meat and given to a dog, transfers the 
disease to him. In Hampshire the sufferer is recommended to drink new milk out of a 
cup made from the variegated holly. In Shropshire the child must drink only out of an ' 
ivy-wood cup. In Warwickshire they calcine and use the " Devil's Thumb " (or Gryphaea 
incurva). In Yorkshire owl broth is recommended. In Norfolk a house spider is caught and 
put in a muslin bag, and pinned over the mantelpiece. Whilst the spider lives the cough 
remains. The spider's death and patient's cure are simultaneous. Hairs plucked from 
the cross on a donkey's back, and worn in a black silk bag round the neck of the suffering 
child, is considered a specific. In Devonshire you are carried fasting into three parishes. 
In Cornwall a slice of bread and butter or cake belonging to a married couple whose 
names are John and Joan is supposed to supersede all drugs. You may also at your 
option, if a sufferer from whooping-cough, drink the remainder of the milk left by a tame 
fox, or be dragged backwards through a bramble bush, or pass the afflicted child under a 
bramble rooted on both sides, or let it be breathed on by a piebald horse, or give it hoi 
water out of a silver chalice, which is not to be touched.' — Notes and Queries. 



Cheshire Cheese, 




CHESHIRE man set sail for Spain., 

To deal in merchandise, 
And when he arrived there 
A Spaniard he espies, 



II. 



Who says, ' You saucy Efiglishman^ 
Rich fruits and spices fine 

Our land produces twice a year, 
There's no such hke in thine.' 



III. 



The English7nan he stepped aside, 
And took a Cheshire cheese. 

And says, ' You saucy Spaniard dog, 
You've no such fruit as these. 



IV. 



' Your land produces twice a year, 
Rich fruits and spice you say. 

But what I in my hands do hold 
Our land gives twice a day. 



Cheshire Cheese. 




Another Version. 
I. 

CHESHIRE man went o'er to Spain, 

To trade and merchandise, 
And when arrived across the main 
A Spaniard there he spies. 



II. 

* Thou Cheshire man,' quoth he, ' look here. 

These fruits and spices fine 
Our country yields these twice a year ; 
Thou hast not such in thine.' 

III. 

The Cheshire man soon sought the hold. 
Thence brought a Cheshire cheese, 

'You Spanish dog, look here,' saith he, 
' You have not such as these. 

IV. 

* Your land produces twice a year 

Spices and fruits you say, 
But such as in my hand I bear 
Our land yields twice a day.' 



In singing the song each line is repeated. 



Cheshire Cheese, 



47 



^^g^^f^ P^^^ 



I — r 

Che - shire man sail'd in - to Spam, To 



^j-trrr 



?=^f 



-A- 



;i 



i^EE3 



-ttf^ 



i 



:^ 






:i^ 



^ 1 — I » . ■ Ua 1- 



— ^ _^ ^ 

' trade for mer - chan - dise ; 



^^ ^^ 



When he ar - riv - ed 



f^:--^ 



■^^ 



-^^ 




fci^s;=& 



ee 



1t3t^^^ 






^ 



<S^-5- 



i^; 



-j^.^-^ 



^ 



T^-«l 



Span - iard him e 
J 



^g^E^ 



£^ 



:Eie 



i=^^r^==^^^^^" 



-&— ^ 



^-^ —^ i-- ^ - 



r^- 



l,^^^^g^ 



trrs^^t=rp=^— f.=^: 



48 



Cheshire Cheese. 



^ 



fcpfe 



^ 



© 



1 r 



Who said, you Eng - lish 



rogue, look here, What 




m 



w. 



B^3-«=— ^- 



-I t: 



Iflf--:- 



t^=«: 



^^: 



3t;^zi^ 



;^=a^ 



:^ 



:^[: 



fruits and spi - ces fine Our land pro-du - ces 



IPS^r 



^m 



_j- ^- _u ^. ^. 



w 



-S;*--st»^ 



^^ii^:^pi^^ 



9) ."*«'_."*** . s^ 




K 



E^^^^P^Fi^ 



f=r 



Cheshire Cheese 



49 



l2::i^=r5=:& 



E^SSS 



^ 



hast not such in thine. 



^^3^r^ 



=p5^i^ 



-^ — 0-, 



**: 



-^rrn: 



^g^ 



^ 



^ 



aizp: 



?3^ 



t=:(t 



'^-i- 



^^^^^^^m 



*^ 



-!=l- . 



fe,?=EEp^; 



-teiS- 



5tr*: 



3=E^ 




The Story of Horseley Hall. 

[Horseley Hall, once the seat of the Powells, a family now extinct, stands on the 
borders of Denbighshire and Cheshire. The Powells were the possessors of the Abbey 
lands at Birkenhead. The Sir Thomas mentioned in the following tale died a.d. 1694. 
The following appeared in ' Sharpe's London Magazine,' vol. i. p. 289. There is unluckily 
no clue to the author. I have to thank Mr. Brushfield's kindness and research for 
enabling me to add the story of Horseley Hall to my collection. — E.] 



HE Lady was sitting alone in her grief, 

Yet her proud flashing eye scorned to weep for relief, 
Whilst these half muttered words from her pale lips 

comprest 
Gave vent to the passion that swelled in her breast : 



II. 
'Am I thus then cast off — like a plaything laid by 1 
Are his vows all forgot ! hath he wearied his eye ? 
Hath his fickle heart (yearning again to be free) 
Learnt another is younger and fairer than me ? 

III. 

' Where's the love he once swore should be strong in all time, 
Should soften our age as it gladdened our prime ? 
The flame then so hot is grown suddenly cold. 
Like a dream that is fled, like a tale that was told. 



The Story of Horseley Hall. 51 



IV. 

' His want of affection and love I could bear 
With a heart ill at ease, and a proud careless air ; 
But to meet such a slight, such a mark of disdain, 
Oh my God ! it o'erpowers and maddens my brain. 



V. 

' Was his easy neglect not enough of disgrace 

That he needs must caress here my maid to my face ? 

'Twere better to die, than a byeword to live : 

Life to me now no pleasure, save vengeance, can give.' 

VI. 

'Twas a sight full of dread, in that old chamber dark, 
The passion that worked midst such beauty to mark ; 
Far better to meet with a she-wolf at bay 
Than encounter a woman when baulked in her way. 

VII. 

She heard a low knock, and serene grew her face 
Like the sea when a cloud passeth o'er without trace; 
As, the door softly opening, her maiden stept in, 
You'd have thought her a creature too lovely for sin. 

VIII. 

Said the Lady, with voice which dissembled her hate, 
' I forgot that the evening was drawing on, Kate : 
Thou shalt tire me, good wench, to the best of thy power. 
For Sir Thomas I hope will be here in an hour.' 

E2 



52 The Story of Horseley Hall. 



IX. 

Her forehead is bound with a chaplet of pearl, 
And her dark raven locks o'er her snowy neck curl ; 
Oh never I ween had that lady so fair 
Seemed fairer than then, or more sprightly her air. 



X. 

She leaned through the casement her beautiful head : 
' He is coming at last ! He is coming ! ' she said. 
' Now nearer and nearer his horse's hoofs fall; 
He will quickly be here : let us haste to the hall.' 

XI. 

Through the gallery long the unfortunate pair 
Arrived at the head of the carved oaken stair, 
When the maid, by her mistress (as old people tell) 
On a sudden pushed down, o'er the banister fell. 



XII. 

One instant her white robes all fluttered in air, 
The next she was dashed at the foot of the stair ; 
You may still see the stain on the mould'ring wood 
Wliere the floor of the hall was bespattered with blood. 



XIII. 

As the Lady descended the staircase alone 
She thought she once heard her in agony moan ; 
But when on the last step she listened, no sound 
Save the clock's solemn tick broke the silence around. 



The Story oi Horse ley Hall. 5. 



XIV. 

When Sir Thomas and she o'er the dead body met, 
There was that in her eye man might never forget; 
One glance spoke the whole of her heart's deadly hate, 
And told how the maiden had come by her fate. 



XV. 

Neither uttered a word — but their souls felt within 
That each knew the whole of the other one's sin. 
As they gazed on the blood-dabbled face of the dead, 
They felt that in life all their pleasure was fled. 

XVI. 

'Twas deemed that Kate's foot slipped, for none saw the blow 
Yet at times there were whisperings, though secret and low, 
That some terrible sight did their Lady appal 
Whenever she ventured to pass through that hall. 

XVII. 

They buried the corpse in the pleasant churchyard 

At the foot of a yew by the western gate hard. 

And still doth a tomb with a quaint arch built high 

Mark the place where the bones of that young creature lie. 

XVIII. 

Yet a curse seemed to brood o'er the house : the proud dame 
Soon to foreign lands passed, nor back ever she came. 
In a convent she soup;ht, by prayer, fasting, and tears, 
To atone for that deed all the rest of her years. 



54 The Story of Horseley Hall 



XIX. 



When Sir Thomas died early, the last of his race, 
No kinsman attended his bones to their place ; 
But buried by strangers, uncared for, unwept, 
With his fathers in Birkenhead Abbey he slept. 




Bradshaw the Regicide. 



In Stockport church is the following entr^' of the birth of Bradshaw the regicide : 

'a.d. 1602. John, the sonne of Henry Bradshaw of INIarpIe, was baptized the loth oi; 
December.' 

It is said he wrote the following lines on a stone in Macclesfield churchyard : 



^ 



Y brother Henry must heir the land, 

My brother Frank must be at his command : 
Whilst I, -^oox Jack^ will do that 
That all the world shall wonder at. 




The Nutwoman, 



A Legend of Knutsford. 




WOMAN lived at Knutsford once, 
The town where King Canute 
Once wet his royal foot 

Some say, but some call this a bounce. 



Her living this old woman gained 
By the sale of her nuts. 
For which youngsters drew cuts : 

On her the town halfpence all rained. 

III. 

She died — and 'twas found in her will 
She would rest her old head 
On a sack (when quite dead) 

Which boys with the best nuts should fill. 



IV. 



Neighbours laughed j but — but me no buts- 

Wlien they buried the dame 

She'd a pillow the same 
She had willed — a bag full of nuts ! 




THE OLD NUTWOMAN. 



The Nutwoman. 57 



V. 

She had not in her grave lain long 
When these nuces she found 
A nuisance underground 

She ne'er thought to nuts would belong. 

VI. 

All sides were bumpy she might choose ; 
She could no way get ease : 
The nuts proved worse than peas 

That Pilgrim once put in his shoes. 



VII. 

Desp'rate at length, one starry night 
An upwards spring she gave ; 
And jumped out of her grave, 

And dragged her nuts up to the light. 



VIII. 

She sat herself on tombstone then, 
And cracked every nut 
With her teeth or her foot. 

Then slipped to her coffin again. 



IX. 

And smooth she folded up her sack. 
But first she shook it out, 
To get all nuts without ; 

As a pillow then put it back. 



58 The Nutwoman. 



X. 

She ev'ry nut had cracked one save, 
Which when she shook the sack 
Bounding out then, good lack. 

Fell into a hole near her grave. 

XI. 

So ends the tale of th' old nut crone. 

The story must be true. 

For high a nut-tree grew, 
And there it still gi'ows — if — not — gone. 



ist Stanza. 'The town where King Canute,' &c. One of the derivations of Knutsford 
Canute's Ford. 




Belfry Rhymes. 



Wybunbury Church. 




F for to ring you do come here, 

You must ring well with hand and ear ; 
And if you ring in spur or hat, 
A quart of ale you pay for that ', 
And if a bell you overthrow, 
Sixpence you pay before you go. 
These laws are old, they are not new. 
Therefore the clerk must have his due. 



Middlewych, 




IDDLEWYCH'i^ a pretty town, 
Seated in a valley, 
With a church and market cross, 
And eke a bowling alley. 
All the men are loyal there ; 
Pretty girls are plenty \ 

Church and King, and down with the Rump, 
There's not such a town in twenty. 



Tlie stones of the Market Cross were removed in i8og. Middlewych cannot now be 
called a prettj' town, but, as Archdeacon Wood i-emarks, ' Before the canal interfered with 
its brook, and when the black and white houses (now fast disappearing), with their quaint 
devices and varied patterns, filled the valley and clustered round the old church, it might 
then have deserved the epithet given it in these lines.' — The Cavalier toast marks the 
date. 



Epitaph in Middlewych Churchy ardy near the 
Priest's Door. 



Here hes Anne^y^iiQ oi Daniel Barker, \^ho diedy^z/F 3rd, 1778, 
Aged 77. 

Some have children, some have none. 
But here lies the mother of twenty-one. 



yames Price. 



[James Price was hung in chains onTrafford Green in 1790, for robbing the Warrington 
Mail, and remained there till 1820, when the pole was taken down, the place having been 
enclosed. In his skull was foimd a robin's nest.] 




H ! Jai7ies Price deserved his fate : 
Naught but Robbing in his pate 
Whilst alive, and now he's dead 
Has still Robi7i in his head. 
High he swings for Robbijig the Mail, 
But his brain oi Robin female 
Still is quite full ; though out of breath, 
The passion e'en survives his death. 




Blessing the Brine. 



[On Ascension day, in days long past, the inhabitants of Nantwych (or Hellath Wen, 
as the town used to be called) used to assemble in gala dress round the ' Old Biat' salt 
pit, which was ornamented for the occasion with flowers and all procurable rustic finery, 
and pass the day in dancing, feasting, and merriment. This was called Blessing the Brine.] 

I. 

CHORUS. 

REATHS of varied hues we bring, 
Flowers of the early spring, 
Hand in hand we join a ring, 
Round Old Biat pit to sing, 
God bless the Brine. 




II. 
Gather ' Paigles,' bring ' Le7it LiUes,' 
Of * Sweet Nancy ' tie up posies ; 
Add ' Ladies smock ' all silver white, 
' Marsh Marygolds,' childhood's delight. 
Chorus, Wreaths &c. 



III. 



Bawme the Old Pit with ribbands gay. 
Torn from the groves green boughs display, 
Whilst we in holiday attire 
Lead the fleet dance both child and sire. 



Chorus^ Wreaths &c. 



Blessing the Brine. 62, 



IV. 

Sound the lound trimbrel, beat the dmm, 
Nor let the clarion's throat be dumb, 
Here let us feast, and sing, and play ; 
Ascension'^ feast's our holiday. 

Chorus, Wreaths &c. 

V. 

Long since, before the Roman host 
In pomp of war old Cheshire crost, 
This pit our fathers' labouring saw. 
The garnered hoards from earth to draw. 
Chorics, Wreaths &c. 

VI. 

We bless the author of all good, 
For that which savours all our food ; 
Of gifts on man that showered are, 
What gift to this can we compare? 
Chorus, Wreaths &c. 

VII. 

The finny treasures of the deep, 
The flocks that climb the mountain steep, 
All food spread over plain and lea. 
Without our salt would tasteless be ? 
Chorus, Wreaths &c. 

VIII. 

Pledge of true friendship, for its sake 
Wild Arabs scorn their faith to break ; 



64 Blessing the Brine. 



Nor will their truth e'er prove at fault 
Towards him with whom they've eaten salt. 
Chorus^ Wreaths &c. 

IX. 

We envy not climes where we're told 
The rivers run o'er sands of gold, 
Nor sigh we for Golconda's mine 
Whilst we can boast our pits of brine. 
Chorus^ Wreaths &c. 

X. 

We hear in foreign lands, salt sick, 
The wild herds roam in search of lick. 
Who by words may dare to measure 
The price of this heavenly treasure. 
Chorus^ Wreaths &c. 

XT. 

So when Ascejisioii'% morn appears, 
As years succeeding follow years, 
Shall ' Hellath Wen ' her children see 
United here for mirth and glee. 

Chorus^ Wreaths &c. 

XII. 

And as our Saviour on this day 
Triumphant rose from earth away, 
So shall our thanks to Heaven arise, 
So let our praises reach the skies. 



Blessing the Brine. 



65 



XIII. 

CHORUS. 

Wreaths of varied hue we bring, 
Flowers of the early spring, 
Hand in hand we form a ring, 
Round Old Biat pit to sing, 
God bless the Brine. 



No. 2 Stanza. Paigle, Cheshire for a Primrose or Cowslip. Lent Lilies, Daffodils. 
Sweet Nancy, Narcissus. Lady's Smock, the Cuckoo flower. 

No. 3. To bawme is to adorn, to dress up. 

No. 6. Salt was supposed never to be used at a witch festival. Homer speaks of ffetos 
o.\<T. Salt used in England to be considered as proof against all demoniac influence, and 
was and is given in some parts of England to a new-born babe, to preserve it from the 
devil imtil screened from him by baptism. The present (not uncommon in Cheshire and 
Lancashire), on its first visit, of an &^^, a handful of salt, and a bunch of matches, is called 
"puddining." 

No. 10. In America the deer and buffalo will traverse great distances, directed by- 
instinct, at certain times of the year, to the Salt Lick. 




The Old Man Outwitted. 



[Supposed by Mr. Hallivvell to date al)ovit the middle of the eighteenth century.] 



I. 

ET all lovers which around me do stand 

Be pleased to give ear to these lines I have penned, 
And when you have heard them I am sure you will 
It's a medicine to drive melancholy avvay. ["gay 




II. 

Its of an ancient farmer near Chester did dwell, 
Whose name at the present I need not to tell : 
He had an only daughter both charming and fair, 
She quickly was drawn into Cupid's snare. 

Tll. 

Her father indeed kept a servant man, 
For to do his business, his name it ^d.^John ; 
The maid was smitten with each glance of his eye, 
That she never was easy out of his company. 

IV. 

They often together in private would walk 
Alone in the garden, and pleasantly talk : 
But pray give attention, and soon you shall hear 
How this passion oft brought them into a snare. 



The Old Man Outwitted. e^ 



V. 

Her father one night to the window had got 
Just over the place where these two lovers sat, 
And heard ev'ry word that between them was said, 
By which this unfortunate youth was betrayed. 

VI. 

' My dear,' said the young man, ' my love it is true, 
And I have set my affections on you ; 
I hope you'll remember the vows that are past, 
And woe be to them who our comforts shall blast ! 



VII. 

The maiden immediately fell on her knee. 
And said, ^ If ever I prove the ruin of thee, 
?>Iay all that I act in the world never thrive. 
Nor I ever prosper while I am alive.' 



VIII. 

The old man retired then with a frown : 
With a heart full inflamed he sat himself down. 
Contriving some way for to part the young pair, 
And how it was acted you quickly shall hear. 



IX. 

Next morning, right early, he called his manyi?/^;/. 
And when that he into the parlour had come. 
He said, ' I am bound to Londofi^ and that speedily ; 
Speak up, are you willing to go along with me ? ' 
f2 



68 The Old Man Outwitted. 



X. 
' Dear honoured sir,' the young man rephed, 
' The thing you require shall not be denied ; 
But in your journey I attentive shall be, 
Because I am willing that city to see.' 



XI. 

Next morning for London they then did steer. 
And soon did arrive at that city we hear : 
Let innocent lovers be pleased to wait, 
The truth of the subject I soon shall relate. 



XII. 

Next morning the old man arose. 

And privately to a sea-captain he goes : 

Saying, ' Sir, I am told you want lads for the sea, 

And I have got a lad that will fit to a tee.' 



XIII. 

' Here's thirty bright guineas I'll freely give thee 
If you can contrive to take him to the sea, 
That he never more to old England rdd^y come.' 
' A match,' said the captain, ' that same shall be done. 



XIV. 

A pressgang immediately up to him went, 
And having secured him, on board he was sent 
In tears to lament on the said roaring main, 
Never expecting more to see his love again. 



The Old Man Outwitted. 69 



XV. 

That day after dinner it happened so 

That the captain's lady on board she would go ; 

Walking the deck, her fair face for to fan, 

And casting her eyes down did see this young man 



XVI. 

Sit close in a corner, his eyes full of tears, 
His face pale as ashes, and heart full of fears ; 
\^niich sight filled the lady with such discontent 
That away to the captain that minute she went. 



XVII. 

Saying, ' What youth is that, love ? prithee tell me. 
Because that he sitteth so melancholy.' 
The captain straight called him ; the young man he came 
With tears in his face ; then he asked him his name. 



XVIII. 

He told him his name with many a tear, 
Likewise the cause of his coming here ; 
From the truth of his love his ruin did rise. 
Which drew many tears from the young lady's eyes. 



XIX. 

She begged for his liberty straight on her knee. 
The captain did with her petition agree ; 
He hkewise returned him ten guineas of gold. 
And gave him his freedom, and further, behold ; 



70 The Old Man Outwitted 



XX. 

Saying, ' Get you to Smithfield away in a trice, 

And buy you a nag about five guineas price ; 

Get home before your master, now luck's in your hands, 

And marry his daughter to make him amends.' 

XXI. 

The young man returned then his comphment. 
And taking his leave to Smithfield he went, 
Where he bought him a steed, and home did repair : 
Now the cream of the jest be pleased to hear. 



XXII. 

Coming to his jewel he told her in brief 
The cause of his sorrow, trouble, and grief; 
And when she had heard she quickly agreed. 
And early next morning they married indeed.' 



XXIil. 

When they were married the young man did say, 
' Go you to my father's without more delay, 
And I'll tarry here a fancy to try : ' 
And how it was acted you'll hear bye and bye. 



XXIV. 

The bride being gone, to her chamber he goes. 
Pulls off his coat, and puts on her clothes, 
And sits himself down by the fire to spin : 
Just as he was acting the old man came in. 



The Old Man Outwitted. ii 



XXV. 

He lights from his horse and secured the same, 
And into the house he immediately came, 
Saying, ' Now, handsome daughter, I have taken care 
To break the intrigues betwixt you and your dear. 

XXVI. 

' I have seen him far aAvay from the shore, 
Where waves do foam and the wild billoAvs roar ; 
You may now see another as fast as you please, 
But as for your old love I've sent him to the seas.' 



XXVII. 

The young man immediately fell to the ground. 
Pretending as though he had been in a swoon ; 
In a passion then smiting his hands on his side, 
' What have you done % cruel master ! ' he cried. 



XXVIII. 

' Master with a vengeance ! ' the old man replied. 
'Yes, yes, you're my master,' the young man he cried ; 
' Oh pray but be easy, and to you I'll tell 
The saddest misfortune that e're did befel. 



XXIX. 

' When my mistress heard I to London must go, 
She craved, nay begged and intreated me so. 
To be dressed in my clothes for to go along you, 
Because she had a mind that city to view.' 



72 The Old Man Outwitted, 



XXX. 

' AdzookSj' said the old man, ' what have I done ? 
I have mined my daughter, oh where shall I run 1 
The DeviVs bewitched me for coveting gold, 
The life of my innocent daughter I've sold.' 



XXXI. 

The old man ran raving away to the barn, 
And snatching a halter under his arm. 
To a beam near at hand he immediately ran 
With a rope round his neck away he swang. 



XXXII. 

The young man immediately whipped out his knife, 
And cut him down e're he'd finished his life ; 
Said, ' Dear sir, have patience, and do not complain, 
And I'll do what I can for to fetch her again.' 

XXXIII. 

The old man he stared like a fox in a snare, 
Saying, ' Bring my darling, whom I love so dear ; 
And that very minute you bring her to town. 
That moment I will pay thee five hundred pound.' 



XXXIV. 

' Nay that is not all, for to finish the strife, 
I'll freely agree for to make her your wife; 
And if that I forty years longer remain, 
I never, no never, will cross her again.' 



The Old Man Outwitted. n 



XXXV. 

The young man replyed, ' I'm not fr.ee to trust, 

But if you will give me a writing first, 

I'll bring her, though never such hazards I run.' 

' A match,' said the old man; ' that same shall be done. 



XXXVI. 

He gave him a bond : having taken the same. 
Away to the bride with the writing he came, 
And told her the story of what he had done ; 
It made the whole family laugh at the fun. 



XXXVII. 

Next morning he drest himself in his best clothes, 
With his charming bride like a beautiful rose ; 
A walk to her father's house straight did they take, 
And happened to meet him just ent'ring the gate. 

XXXVIII. 

They fell on their knees, and his blessing did crave, 
The which he presently unto them gave ; 
Then kissing his daughter, he said to his son, 
Saying, ''John^ you have me funned as sure as a gun.' 



XXXIX. 

They up from their knees and told him the truth : 
He said, ' As you're both in the bloom of your youth, 
I give you my blessing, and for my policy 
Two thousand pounds you shall have when I die.' 



74 The Old Man Outwitted, 



XL. 

You lovers in Britain^ whoever you be, 
That read these few Hues take counsel of me ; 
Don't matter loves crosses, howe'er thick they fall, 
For marriage shall soon make amends for all. 





The White Hind. 

A Legend of St. John's Church, Chester. 
I. 

ING Ethelred^ that man of grace, 
Of righteousness, for love 
Resolved to bring upon his race 
A blessing from above. 



II. 
Like Solomon he sought to raise 

A temple rich and rare, 
Where priests should chaunt their hymn of praise 

Such was his daily care. 

III. 
The year six hundred four score nine 

He lay upon his bed ; 
A dream sent by the power divine 

Breathed round his sleeping head. 

IV. 

A voice hke music seemed to say, 

'■ Arise ! where thou, O king, 
Shalt see a milk white hind at bay. 

Thy pious work begin ! ' 



76 The White Hind, 



V. 

He rose, and conning o'er his dream, 

Eastward from Chestei' past ; 
When hunter's cheer and hound's bay seem 

To near his footsteps fast. 



VI. 

There frowns o'er sparkUng Dee a rock, 

(Above the anchorite cell 
Where Harold was in monkish frock, 

His woes with prayer to quell ; 



VII. 

When, fled from Hasti7igs' broken field 

Before the No7'man host, 
He cast away the sword and shield, 

His crown and kingdom lost). 



VIII. 

Here Ethelred a white hind saw 
By hunters sorely prest ; 

The tears adown her face that faa 
Showed how she was distrest. 



IX. 

But as the king gazed on the scene, 

And the white hind at bay. 
Hounds, huntsmen, and white hind I ween 

Melted in air away. 



The White Hind. ^^ 



X. 
Here to St. JoJm King Ethelred 

A wondrous fane upreared, 
Where prayers were offered for the dead, 

And the Great God revered. 

XI. 

Still on St. John's church tower red, 
Though lashed by storm and wind. 

Stands carved in stone King Ethelred^ 
And near him the White Hind. 



Stanza 3. In the 'Holy Life and History of St. Werburghe' we find the following stanza, 
which alludes to the date and builder of St. John's church : — 

The yere of grace syxe hundredth foure score and nj^en, 

As sheweth myne auctour a Bryton Giraldus, 

Kynge Ethelred myndynge most the blysse of heven 

Edyfyed a collage chyrche notable and famous. 

In the subbarbes of Chester pleasaunt and beauteous, 

In the honour of God and the baptyst Saynt John, 

With helpe of bysshop Wulfryce and good exortacyon. 

Stanza 6. 'Above the anchorite cell,' &c. Giraldus Cambrensis mentions, as the tradition 
of this place (and one which, of course, was subsequent to the legend of the White Hind 
and the foundation of St. John's church), that King Harold, having survived the wounds 
received at the battle of Hastings, spent the rest of his life as an anchorite, in a cell near 
St. John's church, Chester. 

Stanza 11. ' Stands carved in stone,' &c. This almost worn-out carving is on the west 
face of the tower. In consequence of a visit of Mr. Parker, and at the instigation and 
by the offer of a large subscription by our modern King Ethelred, the Marquis of West- 
minster, this church is being now thoroughly restored. 




Sir Percy Legh. 



Or the Legend of the Knight's Lowe and the Lady's Grave. 



[In the park of Lyme is a beautiful conical hill crowned by a diadem of fir trees, called 
' The Knight's I-owe ; ' and in another part of the estate a field, through which flows the 
Bollin, has always been known by the name of ' The Lady's Grave.' A white lady is said 
to haunt the house of Lyme, and listeners think they hear, in the still hours of the night, 
a sound as of a distant peal of bells. Sir Piers Legh married Joan, heiress of Sir Gilbert 
de Haydock ; he died in Paris of wounds received at Agincourt, and was brought home 
for interment. His grandfather, Sir Thomas Danyers, distinguished himself at the 
battle of Cressy, amongst the chivalry of Chester there engaged ; for ' he relieved the 
banner of his Earl, and took prisoner the Chamberlain of France, Tankerville.'] 



FART I. 




ARK ! what means that sound, 

That low and murmuring swell, 
That dies away and comes again 
As 'twere a distant funeral knell. 



Hark, again that wail 

Borne up the passing gale, 
Breaking from the neighbouring height 

The solemn silence of the night 



Sir Percy Legh. 79 



III. 

And see the red deer clust'ring round 

Half startled listen to the sound, 
And peer into the vacant space 

As though some strange sight met their gaze. 



IV. 

And shadowy forms now seem to pass 
With slow and solemn pace, 

Bearing aloft some lifeless form 
To its last resting place. 



V. 

And flitting o'er the moonlight scene 
A female form appears in sight, 

All dressed in white and silver sheen 
With many a pearl and gem bedight. 



VI. 

And following in the mourners' track, 
She wrings her hands as one that's fey. 

And so the vision passes on 

To vanish with the light of day. 



VII. 

And who is this they bear along ? 

And who may be this maid in ^^^hite "? 
And what the legend yet unsung, 

And who be they who fright the night 1 



8o Sir Percy Legh. 



FART II. 

VIII. 

High sounds of mirth rang through the hall 
And mingled shouts of revelrie, 

For there had feasted great and small, 
Men both of high and low degree. 

IX. 

And courteous knight and courtly dame 
Surveyed the scene right merrilie, 

For blithely sped the frolic game 
Within the halls of Piers de Legh. 

X. 

The bull which roamed the forest wide 
Had given his carcase to the feast, 

An arrow pierced his milk-white hide 
And stretched in death the lordly beast. 

XI. 

The red deer bounded o'er the hill 
E'en at the earliest streak of day, 

The sleuth-hound followed on his track 
And brought the noble stag to bay. 

XII. 

The heron, by the sedgy pool 

Watching intent its finny prey. 
Was startled by the merlin's cry. 

And fell to grace the feast that day. 



Sir Percy Legh, 8i 



XIII. 

And many a white-plumed swan beside, 
And fruits from many a foreign clime, 

And costly wines, and dainties rare, 

The feast swelled that was held at Lyine. 



XIV. 

And flagons passed along the board 
Filled to the brim with foaming ale, 

And goblets flashed with ruby wine, 
And merrily sped the glad wassail. 



XV. 

And now paced up and down the hall 
Lords and knights of high degree. 

And towering high above them all 
The stalwart form of Percy Legh. 



XVI. 

And on his arm a maiden hung 
More beauteous far than all beside, 

Whose love-lit eye and blushing cheek 
Told that she was Sir Percy's bride. 



XVII. 

And now its summons spoke the gong 
Booming through the spacious hall, 

When quick arranged the happy throng 
To thread the mazes of the ball. 



82 Sir Percy Legh. 



XVIII. 

And many a whispered vow was made^ 
And many a flashing glance was thrown, 

And many a gallant heart was pierced, 
And many a maiden's peace was flown. 

FART III. 

XIX. 

Now with horse and with hound the gaflant array 
Were out on the moor at the break of the day. 
To rouse the wild bull or the stag firom his lair, 
And gather fresh laurels from many a fair. 

XX. 

Overcome by the chase, overpowered by the heat. 
They sought the fierce boar in his forest retreat ; 
Yet the foremost of all in this wild venerie 
Was still the bold form of Sir Percy de Legh. 

XXL 

And the bright eyes that met hmi when back he returned 
Were more to him far than all praises he earned, 
Whilst the plaudits of all men of every degree 
Sank deep in the heart of the swQQt/oa?? de Legh. 

XXII. 

Thus still prest time onwards : each day as it came 
Brought its increase of bhss to the beauteous dame, 
Whilst Sir Percy to all was so kindly and free. 
And none were so happy as idh Joan de Legh. 



Sir Percy Legh. 83 



FART IV. 

XXIII. 

Hark! what means that clarion shrill 
Echoing from the. neighbouring hill 1 
Paled the face of that lovely bride, 
She feared it might some ill betide. 

XXIV, 

In many a gaudy colour drest 
A horseman foreward quickly prest : 
' Hasten ye all from cottage and hall, 
The King hath need of his lieges all.' 

XXV. 

' To horse ! To horse ! ' Sir Fe^ry cried, 
Yet tried to soothe his startled bride. 
' My trusty sword ! Nay never fear : 
My shield and corslet, helm and spear ! 

XXVI. 

' Nay, /oa?t, thou art a true knight's bride, 
And knowest well thy sovereign's call 

Must be obeyed whene'er 'tis heard : 
The call of honour summons all. 

XXVII. 

' Still, love, those fears, and dry those tears. 
No coward's blood thy sweet frame warms ; 

Thou would' St not with a coward mate. 
Nor take a craven to thy arms.' 
G 2 



84 Sir Percy Legh. 



XXVIII. 

Thus spoke, then prest her to his heart, 
Then quickly tore himself apart, 
At once to saddle tree he sprung, 
And to his horse the loose rein flung. 

FART V. 

XXIX. 

And now the spurred and eager steed 
Darting sprang forth with lightning speed; 
She gave one look of agonie. 
And saw her last of Piers de Legh. 

XXX. 

But there was one who loved him more, 
Whose heart those parting tidings tore ; 
"Who'd loved Piers more than all beside, 
Before he Joa7i had made his bride. 

XXXI. 

Unwooed, poor Blanche had loved Sir Piers ; 
This love had cost her bitter tears. 
Ah, wo worth Blanche ! wo worth the day ! 
^Vhen Percy wed another may ! 

XXXII. 

What maid might view that noble form 
And not to such a warrior warm, 
Unkno^vn 'twas ever to the knight 
That he to Blanche was breath and light. 



Sir Percy Legh. 85 



XXXIII. 

Hid in a thicket's darkest gloom 
She gazed on Fercf^ lessening plume, 
Then fainting sank to earth at last, 
Her life's joy crushed, her life's joy past. 



FAJ^T VL 

XXXIV. 

Hail to England'^ gallant king, 
His banner proudly floats on high, 

And waves upon the GalHc soil. 
The herald of his destiny. 

XXXV. 

Right loyal hearts about him beat 

Obedient to his royal Avill; 
And Kentish bows were heard to twang. 

And swiftly cleaved the northern bill. 

XXXVI. 

And many a gallant cavalcade 

From Cheshire' <& plains might now appear, 
And many a proud and stalwart knight 

From Lancashire with shield and spear. 

XXXVII. 

The noble Harry turned his eye, 

With pride surveyed the numerous host ; 

Not one but for his king would die. 
Nor make his loyalty a boast. 



86 Sir Percy Legh. 



XXXVIII. 

And now they come to Agmcourt, 
The GaUic foe appeared in view, 

When quick the foremost ranks were thinned 
As swift the clothyard arrows flew. 



XXXIX. 

On the French impetuous rush, 
Seeking their English foes to crush ; 

But each man with his henchman stood, 
Nor ceased to strike till drained his blood. 



XL. 

Now backward hurtling to and fro, 
The battle tide doth ebb and flow : 

At length the Gallic foe give ground, 
With English cheer the echoes sound. 



XLI. 

And where is Englajid's king the while, 
How bears the gallant Harry now 1 

E'en in the thickest of the fight, 
Around him many a fallen foe. 

XLII. ■ 

And still he pressed his charger on, 
And laid about him lustilie, 

Yet had succumbed to whelming foes 
But for the sword of Percy Leg/i. 



Sir Percy Legh. Sy 



XLIII. 

His eagle eye the danger saw, 

And quick his towering form he threw 
Before his Hege — his upraised arm 

Swift the pressing foemen slew. 



XLIV. 

Still he maintained th' unequal fight, 
Till, by thronging bands o'erprest, 

His life's blood welled from many a wound, 
And fainting drooped the ram's-head crest. 



XLV. 

' The king ! the king ! a rescue here ! ' 
The English host was heard to cheer. 

' Bear, guards, the bleeding knight away. 
His life to me and Emlamf^^ dear. 



XLVI. 

' Tent him with care — for were it not 
That he were here, I had not been. 

There beats not in this gallant host 
Than his a nobler heart, I ween.' 



XLVI I. 

Then, breathing vengeance, sought again 
The king the Frenchmen's thickening host 

They yielded soon on every side : 

England has won, and France has lost. 



88 Sir Percy Legh. 



XLVIII. 

Hotly the English host pursued 

Their vanquished foe for many a mile ; 

But though it was a glorious day, 
The king was never seen to smile. 



XLIX. 

Quick he betook him to his tent, 

Resolved the wounded knight to see ; 

And in deep sorrow o'er him bent — 
'■ How is it with thee, Percy Legh % ' 



L. 

' Kind Heaven be praised that thou art here, 
And victory crowns the day at last \ 

My gracious liege, my days are o'er, 
I feel my life blood ebbing fast.' 



LI. 

' Nay say not so my gallant knight. 
Thy king shall nurse thee tenderly ; 

For thou didst save him in the fight, 
And he will give his love to thee.' 



LII. 

' A boon ! a boon ! my gracious liege, 
A boon I fain would ask of thee ; 

I left at Lyme my fair young bride, 
Oh gently tent the Lady Legh, ' 



Sir Percy Legh. 



LIII. 

They carried him to Paris town, 
They bore him there right carefully ; 

But there he felt his strength was gone, 
And gently laid him down to die. 



PART VII. 

LIV. 

Oh in that hour of utmost need, 

None Blanche'% unknown woes might heed ; 
Nor think of her who wed despair 

When wed Sir Piers another fair. 

LV. 

They carried home his comely corse, 

To lay him with his ancestrie ; 
And as they Maxjield forest pass, 

Sadly they think of Lady Legh. 

LVI. 

But the sad tidings Blanche first hears : 
One shriek she gave ! so wild and dread. 

No word she spoke, she shed no tears ; 
Her hands pressed to her maddened head. 

LVII. 

They heaped above his corse a mound, 
A mound where now dark fir-trees wave j 

And moans at night are heard around 

From Kiiighfs lowe, sweeping o'er the grave. 



90 Sir Percy LegL 



LVIIL 

Bla7iche rambled all the night forlorn, 
Little she recked of wind and storm ; 

And on the river's brink at morn 
Lay stiff in death her lovely form. 

LIX. 

They buried her where she was found, 
Where sadly sighs the Bollhi^ wave ; 

And ever since that meadow ground 
By all is called ' The Lady's Grave.' 



Stanza 44. ' And fainting drooped the ram's-head crest.' The crest of Legh of Lyme. 




Stockport. 



The Orisrin of its Name. 




AMA refert Danos ubi nunc Stopporta locatur 
Afflictos olim clade fuisse gravi ; 
Inde urbi nomen, praedonum incursibus obex, 
Quod datus hie Anglis sit quoque parta salus. 



TRANSLATION. 

In ages past the place where Stopport stands 
Marked the repulse of hostile Danish bands ; 
And thence according to the voice of fame, 
The Angles safety gained, the town its name. 



Stockport is still pronounced Stopport by its inhabitants. It has often been said hat 
the vulgar pronunciation often gives the clue to the origin and root of a name. So 
Frodsham is vulgarly pronounced Fordsham, i.e. the town of the ford. There is a 
tradition that the Danes were repulsed at Stockport, and the slain buried in a field below 
the castle, called the Park. 




The Skeleton Hand. 

A Legend of Lymm Church. 
I. 

N old crone lived at Li77i one day, 
Lh?i that is famed for best of hay; 
Water she scorned, or if, you see. 
She water drank, 'twas Eau de Vie. 

II. 
'Twas Eau de Vie : but when her hose 
She eke did wash, or other clothes. 
She scorned the brooklet in the vale, 
And at the church she filled her pail. 

III. 
She filled her pail at th' old church spout, 
In spite of neighbours who spoke out ; 
And said 'twas wrong her pail to fill 
At the church spout, and not the rill. 

IV. 

And not the rill : but though they talked. 
Her fancy would not thus be baulked ; 
She talked too, and swore ' that soft 
Water was best, she'd tried it oft' 




^£S.- '■ 



THE SKELETON HAND. 



The Skeleton Hand. 93 



V. 

She'd tried it oft. Once more she went 
To church, on sacrilege intent ; 
The wild wind moaned, the torrents poured, 
The lightning flashed, the thunder roared. 



VI. 

The thunder roared, the gurgoyles grinned. 
The old crone trembled as she sinned ; 
However that stupid she seemed. 
Lifted her pail, but sudden screamed. 



VII. 

But sudden screamed, for from the spout 

Which from the church tower stretched its snout 
Came a skeleton hand, and without fail 
Struck the old crone, and seized her pail. 

VIII. 

And seized her pail, as on her back 

She lay half stunned by sudden whack ; 
She saw the hand and pail beside 
Through the thin lead pipe upwards glide. 



IX. 

She saw the pail through the thin pipe glide. 
Yet the pail was not crushed, nor its bands untied ; 
Ne'er was the pail nor hand I ween 
By mortal eye again e'er seen. 



94 The Skeleton Hand. 



X. 

By mortal eye e'er seen : but she 
Was found there, lying helplessly. 
Some said 'twas lightning, brandy some ; 
They raised her up and took her home. 

XI. 

They took her home, and from that hour 
She ne'er took a can to th' old church tower 
Nought of the phantom hand she told 
Save one dear friend she knew of old. 

XII. 

She knew of old, who swore that dumb 
She'd ever prove, and not tell one ; 
And not tell one — but she told two 
Great friends, and thus the secret grew. 

XIII. 

The secret grew, and soon through Lim 
Surged over and ran o'er the brim ; 
Like lightning spread throughout the land 
The crushed pail and skeleton hand. 



MORAL. 

Two things may all learn from this tale 
Of the bone hand and th' old crone's pail ; 
Go to the church your prayers to say. 
Thence naught but good thoughts take away. 



The Skeleton Hand. 



95 



If there be aught you don't wish known, 
Be sure to keep your counsel own ; 
Else you may chance th' old proverb rue, 
' Secret de trois, secret de tous.' 



Lymm used to be spelt Lim — the correct spelling, from the root Limes, a boundary ; as 
the Mersey, which nms through Lim, divides Cheshire from Lancashire. 

Stanza i. ' Lim that is famed for best of hay.' ' To lick up a thing like Lim hay' is an 
old county proverb, expressive of superexcellence. 

Stanza 6. ' However that stupid,' &c. ; ' that stoopid,' Cheshire for obstinate. 

The French proverb, quoted in the last line, is in its entirety 
Secret de deux, secret de Dieu ; 
Secret de trois, secret de tous. 




The Sands of Dee, 



A Song. 




Mary, go and call the cattle home, 
And call the cattle home, 
And call the cattle home, 
Across the sands of £>ee. 
The western wind was wild and dark with foam, 
And all alone went she. 



The western tide crept up along the sand, 

'And o'er and o'er the sand, 

And round and round the sand, 

As far as the eye could see. 
The rolling mist swept down, and hid the land, 

And never home came she ! 



O is it weed, or fish, or floating hair? 
A tress of golden hair, 
A drowned maiden's hair. 
Above the nets at sea ; 

Was never salmon yet that shone so fair 
Among the stakes at Dee. 



The Sands of Dee. 97 



They rowed her in across the rolHng foam, 

The cruel crawhng foam, 

The cruel hungry foam, 

To her grave beside the sea ! 
But still the boatmen hear her call her cattle home 

Across the sands of Dee. 



The author of the above, which has been set to music, is the Rev. Charles Kingsley, 
Rector of Winchfield, the last male representative of the Kingsleys of Kingsley. 




Epitaph on an Old Chester Woman 
who sold Pottery. 



ENEATH this stone lies Catherine Gray, 
Changed to a Hfeless lump of clay ; 
By earth and clay she got her pelf, 
Yet now she's turned to earth itself 
Ye weeping friends, let me advise, 
Abate your grief and dry your eyes, 
For what avail a flood of tears : 
Who knows but in a run of years, 
In some tall pitcher or broad pan. 
She in her shop may be again. 








The Wishing Steps. 

A Legend of Chester. 

[Near the south-east corner of the city walls at Chester, and forming part of the Wall, 
and as you turn northwards, are a flight of steps called 'The Wishing Steps.' The 
religio loci is, that whatever wish may be formed at the bottom of these steps will, in the 
course of time, be surely fulfilled, provided the wisher can run to the top and back again 
without drawing breath. Another version is that the aspirant must not only go up and 
down, but up again ; but those who have been 07ice up and down will prefer the double to 
the treble transit, and find even then their task is not easy unless gifted with the lungs of 
a pearl-diver, as there are six flights of three steps each, with a landing of five feet 
between each flight. St. John's tower, Beeston castle, and the river Dee are the principal 
objects from this spot.] 




many a youth and maid each year 
Have here raced up and down, 
Panting with speed of mountain deer, 
Some long-formed wish to crown. 



II. 



And there are those whose oft crost lot 
Hopes here may balm receive. 

Mistrust the legend of the spot, 
And yet would fain believe. 



III. 
Though wild perchance that legend be. 

And though the tale be vain. 
Grudge not the wretch in misery 

What bids him hope again. 

L.fC. 



oo The Wishing Steps. 



IV. 

Some climb by dark revenge distraught, 

Or fierce resolve of hate, 
Some, laughing, feign to mount in sport, 

Yet hope to bind their fate. 

v. 
One morn I marked a beauteous maid 

' The Wishing Steps ' draw nigh. 
She paused — I felt a prayer was said : 

Her bosom heaved a sigh. 

VI. 

She gazed not on the hallowed Dee^ 
That rolls beneath the Wall ; 

For Beestofi% heights no thought had she, 
The Wish was all in all. 



VII. 

The telltale blush, the long-drawn sigh 
(The thought from all concealed), 

The eloquence of downcast eye. 
To me that wish revealed. 



VIII. 

Unspoke I could that thought divine : 

' Oh may I be his bride ! 
This granted ; the whole world is mine. 

Wish I have none beside.' 



The Wishing Steps. loi 



IX. 

Then up she sprang with angel grace ; 

I watched her swift return — 
Swift as Camilla in the race, 

Who topped th' unbending corn. 

X. 

And when she panting drew her breath, 

I saw a happy smile : 
Ever the heart, till chilled by death, 

Wishes, hope fed, beguile. 



Stanza 6. ' She gazed not on the hallowed Dee.' In Milton we find, ' or ancient 
hallowed Dee.' Randolph, in his poems, also notices ' the holy Dee.' 





The Iron Gates. 

A Legend of Alderley. 

HE writhing mists of autumn's sky- 
Still hid the heights oi Alderley, 
And scarlet leaves fell thick and fast, 
In dragon forms the dim clouds past, 
And scarce the sun, in feeble ray, 
Broke through the gloom with tardy day; 
Bowed to the breeze the pine-tree swung. 
And dewdrops on each blackthorn hung : 
Just such a scene as those appalling 
Who (ventured in some homebred calling), 
Some chance hath brought to heath and plains, 
And splashing moors and falling rains; 
Then memory turns to smoke and strife, 
And screaming bairns and scolding wife, 
And noise and strife seem fair and good 
Compared with such wild solitude. 
But other thoughts employed the mind 
Of yon rough-coated Cestrian hind; 
He, bred in scenes where winter's cold 
Has early made each urchin bold, 
Heeds not the blast, the miry way. 
The falling leaf, the sullen day, 



The Iron Gates. 103 



But eager posting to the fair, 
With armed heel spurred on his mare. 
A flowing mane, his favourite steed 
(Pride of his grandsire's fav'rite breed) 
Graced the smooth neck and ample chest, 
And this his early care had drest ; 
For 'tis the pride, the Cestriaft's brag, 
The bone and breeding of his nag : 
He loved his nag, yet sighed for gold, 
He wished her kept, he wished her sold. 
So have I seen temptation even 
Within my chapel wall, St. Stephen ! 
Where some great patriot would retain 
The mob's loud plaudit but for gain ; 
Now much in doubt for glory burns, 
And now towards the Premier turns ; 
Conquered at last by love of gold, 
And, like the farmer's nag, is sold. 

Strong blew the breeze with whistling rain. 
His hat fell flapping o'er his face, 
A moment checked the farmer's pace, 
When right before his horse's head 
A dark huge figure seemed to spread. 
The startled mare pricked up each ear, 
The farmer's hair stood up for fear. 
As straight before his purposed road 
A huge black monster's vast form strode. 
Above the human height it seemed. 
Bright lightning from his eyeballs gleamed. 
And from beneath the shadowy brow 
A solemn voice spoke deep and low: — 



I04 The Iron Gates, 



* Stranger, attend ! and traveller, hear ! 
I know what business brought you here ; 
I know thy errand, and full well 
Thy sordid purpose can I tell — 
Thou'dst give thy favourite mare for pelf, 
And sell for little more thyself ; 
But know, thy horse is doomed to be 
Heir to a nobler destiny : 
Sell as thou wilt that steed of thine, 
'Tis fated that the steed be mine. 
Yet go ; though I can ne'er deceive, 
Thy stubbornness will ne'er believe ; 
Mix with the chapmen all, and try 
Who chaffers for her, who will buy : — 
A vain attempt, but be it so. 
And to the purposed market go. 
But mark me well ; 'tis my behest 
That when the sun sinks in the West, 
And e'er the moon with silver light 
Shall make yon waving pine-tree bright, 
Return thou here, and bring thy steed : 
Fear not 2/" here, else fear indeed. 
Go ponder on my firm behest. 
But mark the hour, and watch the West.' 
The warning ceased ; the Cestrimi?, eye 
Gazed, — but it gazed on vacancy ! 
For man nor seeming man was there — 
All was dissolved, and nought but air. 
And sky, and hill, and heath, and wood. 
Where late the wizard form had stood. 



The Iron Gates. 105 



He gasped for breath, with terror cold, 

But soon aroused, for he was bold 

By nature — and to such is light 

The strongest image of affright. 

To his good steed he gave the rein, 

And swiftly scudded o'er the plain. 

Reached in an hour the busy scene 

Where the crowd thickened on the green — 

The village green. The gathering crowd, 

In festive mirth, or bickerings loud. 

The tempting baits in order spread : 

The husband gilt in gingerbread. 

The lowing calf in crowded pen, 

The tiger roaring in his den. 

All that can please, amuse, amaze. 

Broke on the Cestrian's gladdened gaze. 

The swinging bush, high hung in air, 

Proclaimed good ale was selling there j 

High on a booth, with clattering din. 

Stood grinning clown and harlequin ; 

And cunning men of fate full sure. 

And quacks infallible to cure. 

Pleased, though not wildered with the scene, 

Thrift and pleasure placed between. 

The Cestrian^ though he liked it well. 

Was come for profit, and to sell. 

Up through the street the snow-white mare 
Sped her best pace — a trotter rare \ 
Beneath her feet the pavement burned 
As in a gallop she returned ; 



io6 The Iron Gates. 



Then, standing up on rising ground, 

Swift and sure he warrants sound. 

Some praised, and some found fault ; the same, 

For still no real bidder came. 

' For guineas ! Pounds ! I'll give one back. 

For road, for harness, such a hack ! ' 

Yet still no buyer came. The sun 

Proclaimed his daily race was run ; 

And now he thought of the behest 

By the gay gilding in the West. 

He must not pause, for now full soon 

Will rise and shine the silver moon. 

He must obey. Bound by that spell, 

He bade the noisy crowd farewell ; 

Returning with less eager pace, 

(Not without fear) regained the place — 

The place where late the phantom stood. 

Half way between the hill and wood. 

Oft his mind turned upon the cause. 

Why Nature broke her common laws ; 

Why she allowed, by day or night, 

To wander thus th' imprisoned sprite. 

His cheek now flushed, nov/ icy cold 

Turned by chance, by nature bold. 

Seven lofty firs had marked the spot, 

Which Cestrians since have ne'er forgot, 

And there, upon the th)aiiy green 

Reclined, the wizard form was seen, 

Beneath a rock of summit steep 

Lay the wrapped warner as in sleep. 



The Iron Gates. 107 



The rider paused with tightened rein, 
Viewed the strange sleeper o'er again, 
Taxed his own timid heart, and said, 
' I have no sense of guilt ; and dread 
To guilt belongs. My arm is strong ; 
Then to the base such fears belong. 
Up and be bold ! and fairly boast 
Thy first encounter with a ghost.' 
He spurred his steed, and nearer drew. 
But as he came more near in view 
Of that same form of unknown evil, 
(That unsubstantial, might-be devil). 
His shivering fit returned, and charms 
He thought on for all magic harms : 
Beads had he none, and httle skill 
To muster up a prayer at ^vill ; 
And once a sense of deep affright 
To ebbing courage counselled flight. 
But to cut short his meditation, 
The phantom took his former station, 
And right before his horse's head 
The giant form again was spread. 
' 'Tis well,' he said, ' good man and true ; 
Now follow me, and take thy due.' 
And down the sable phantom strode, 
With noiseless step, the northern road ; 
The leafless wood they passed beneath, 
And crossed upon the dreary heath ; 
By Stormy Pomt where tempests roll. 
They pass, and next by Saddle Boll. 



io8 The Iron Gates, 



The horseman paused, and seemed to say, 

Here stand ! — no further will I stray ! 

E'en at this instant, from the ground 

Forth issuing, came a hollow sound. 

Now sank indeed the Cestriaii?> soul. 

Back on his heart the pulses roll, 

For now appeared his sable guide 

In all the stern magician's pride, 

And to the farmer's startled sight 

He seemed to swell in form and height. 

Loose from his form his vesture flowed. 

His piercing eye with fury glowed. 

And when he muttering breathed a spell. 

Earth trembling yawned, and seeming hell. 

With all the very worst of fates. 

Stood opening by two Iron Gates ! 

He waved his hand, and as he spake, 

Earth to its centre 'gan to quake. 

Now plunged the steed, and on the ground 

Soon was th' affrighted rider found, 

Who, kneeling at th' enchanter's feet, 

In piteous tones did thus entreat : — 

' Oh, mighty chief of magic spell ! 

Art thou not pledged to treat me well % 

Didst thou not promise my return 

My safety from thy charms should earn % ' 

' It shall do so; — be bold, proceed, 

I'll stay thee at thy utmost need. 

Be bold, and enter ; feast thy eye 

With more than mortal scrutiny.' 



The Iron Gates. 109 



E'en at the word a spreading cave 
(Such as the Alpine hermits have) 
Sudden appeared with opening wide. 
Bright from the roof on every side 
Hang pendent crystals, icy, bright, 
Reflecting back phosphoric light ; 
Unsteady vapours seemed to play 
A sort of intermitting day. 
Entered yet deeper, to the walls 
Were fixed innumerable stalls. 
Where milk-white coursers, side by side, 
(Just like his own) were careful tied, 
And close by every steed was found 
An armed man, in slumber bound ; 
And more and more the numbers seemed, 
As up the vault the vapours gleamed. 
Bright was each steed from heel to hoof, 
Bright was each blade of temper proof, 
And Mars himself, with prideful eye, 
Had viewed such host of cavalry. 
Further they passed ; in clefts of rock 
Was stored bright gold, a plenteous stock, 
But deeper hid within the gloom 
There stood in this sepulchral room 
A mighty chest of ponderous size. 
Bolted with bands of many dies. 
Up to this chest th' enchanter came. 
And brighter burned his magic flame ; 
And as he turned the massive lock, 
The echo rang from rock to rock. 



no The Iron Gates. 



Then from the chest with care he told 
To the bold Cestrian counted gold. 
' The steed is mine ; bid wonder cease ; 
Receive thy gold, depart in peace.' 

* Nay ; tell me more ! ' the Cestrimi cried ; 

* Why are these steeds in order tied % 
Why sleep those men all bright in arms ? 
And why prepared for war's alarms ? 
Say, are they doomed to mortal toil, 

Or destined to unearthly broil ?' 

On this the wizard changed his face, 

Assumed a mild and brighter grace. 

And to his tone was something given 

As from a messenger from heaven. 

' These are the Caverned Troops — by fate 

Foredoomed the guardians of our state. 

England'?, good genius here detains 

These armed defenders of her plains ; 

Doomed to remain till that dread day 

When foemen, marshalled in array, 

And fiends intestine shall combine 

To seal the ruin of our line. 

Thrice lost shall England be, thrice won, 

'Twixt dawn of day and setting sun ; 

Then we, the wondrous Caverned Band ! 

These mailed martyrs for the land. 

Shall rush resistless on the foe. 

And they the power of Cestrians know ; 

And thus all-glorious day be won 

By royal George^ great George'?, son. 



The Iron Gates. m 



Then bootless groans shall travellers hear, 
Who pass thy forest, Delamere ! 
Their dabbled wings shall ravens toss, 
Croaking o'er bloodstained Headless Cross. 
But peace ! — May be another age 
Shall write these records on her page. 
Begone ! ' — Nor dared the farmer wait ; 
In haste he past the Iron Gates. 
He heard the bolts descend and clash, 
And the hills echoed to the crash. 
He turned to gaze ; — his searching eye 
Found nothing round save earth and sky. 
Wondering he stands, but fears to stay, 
Homeward in haste pursues his way. 
Soon was the strange adventure told 
To what high fate his horse was sold ; 
The neighbours hasten to the spot, 
Vainly they search, they find it not. 
No trace remained ; nor since that night 
Hath mortal eye beheld the sight. 
And till the hour decreed by fate 
None shall e'er see the Iron Gate. 



The Unfortunate Loves of Thomas 
Clutterbuck and Polly 
Higginbotham . 



A Broadside. 




N Chester town a man there dwelt, 
Not rich as Croesus, but a buck ; 
The pangs of love he dearly felt, 
His name was Thomas Clutterbuck. 
The ladye he did most approve 
Most guineas gold had got 'em, 
And Clutterbuck fell deep in love 
With Polly Higginbotham. 

Oh, Thomas Clutterbuck / 
And oh, Polly Higginbotham I 
I sing the loves, the smiling loves. 
Of Clutterbuck and Polly Higginbotham, 



II. 



A little trip he did propose, 

Upon the Dee they got 'em ; 

The wind blew high, he blew his nose, 

And sang to Polly Higginbotham. 



Clutter buck and Higginbotham. 113 



The strain was sweet, the stream was deep ! 
He thought his notes had caught her ; 
But she, alas ! first fell asleep, 
And then fell, in the water ! 

Oh, Polly Higginbotham I 

She went to the bottom. 
I sing the death, the doleful death. 
Of pretty Polly Higgifibotham. 



III. 
Yet still he strained his little throat, 
To love he did invite her, 
And never missed until his boat, 
He thought, went rather lighter ; 
But when he saw that she was gone, 
The summum of his wishes. 
He boldly paid the waterman; 
And jumped among the fishes. 
Oh, Polly Higginbotham / 
He comes to the bottom. 
I sing the death, the double death. 
Of Clutterbuck and Higginbothain. 



IV. 

Round Chester stalk, the river ghosts 
Of this young man and fair maid ; 
His head looks like a salmon-trout. 
Her tail is like a mermaid. 



114 Clutter buck and Higginbotham. 



Learn this, ye constant lovers all, 
Who live in England'?, island, 
The way to shun a wat'ry death 
Is making love on dry land ! 
Oh, Folly Higginhotham I 
Who hes at the bottom. 
I sing the ghosts, the wat'ry ghosts, 
Of Cluttcrbuck and HigginbotJiam. 




Cheshire Wyches. 

A Song of Salt. 
[Printed for the benefit of the Northvvich Bazaar, 1840.] 



I. 




HE ' Wyches,' and their plenteous store 
Of rock-salt and of brine, 
I sing, — a theme unsung before 
By any lyre but mine. 



II. 



Apollo ! thou the song exalt, 
And from Parnassus mine 

Impregnate with true Attic salt 
This rhapsody saline. 



III. 



Our ' Wyches ' if deprived of these. 

No salt below the soil. 
In vain to thrutch the daily cheese 

Would Cheshire damsel toil. 



I 2 



ii6 Cheshire Wyches. 



IV. 

In infancy we all were taught 
A trick that never fails, 

How easily old birds are caught 
With salt upon their tails. 



V. 

A salmon hooked from fin to fin, 
Full fifteen inches wide, 

A pretty pickle he'd be in. 
Were Cheshire salt denied ! 



VI. 

When fattened hogs, of life bereft, 

The appetite awaken. 
What recipe have housewives left. 

Save salt, to save their bacon ? 



VII. 

Oude, skilled in soups and fricandeaux. 

Without it were at fault. 
Himself unequal to compose 

A substitute for salt. 



VIII, 

Soupe maigre were more maigre still. 
Cold salads, grass would be ; — 

Eat devils without salt who will, 
The devil a bit for me ! 



Cheshire Wyches. 117 



IX. 

No omen sad to cause alarm, 
The mustard-pot o'erthrown ; 

Nor threatens any future harm 
When pepper falls alone. 



X. 

But salt, if spilt, each guest shall rue ; 

The scattered grains foretell 
Bad luck to him who overthrew, 

And worse to whom it fell. 



XI. 

Fair Ve?ms, rising from the sea. 

Was born upon the tide ; 
This charming goddess, what was she 

But salt personified ? 



XII. 

To her, the queen of smiles and mirth, 
Old Ocean's lovehest daughter, 

Nor fount nor river stream gave birth, 
No — salt was in the water. 



XIII. 

As in the sea so on the strand 

Its properties combine. 
And Cheshire is the favoured land 

Of Beauty and of Brine. 



ii8 Cheshire Wyches. 



XIV. 

This nation may our queen exalt, 
And blessings still accrue, 

And never may one tear of salt 
The royal eye bedew. 



XV. 

When knaves and traitors she would clear 

From foul corruption's blot, 
We '11 bathe them, if she sends them here, 

In brine-pan boiling hot. 



XVI. 

If France has not had war enough, 
We 're ready still to meet her ; 

And give our foe a pinch of snuff 
In the shape of black saltpetre. 



XVII. 

Salt Hill invites the w^orid to share 
The Montem's festive scene ; 

For ages salt and silver there 
Synonymous have been. 

XVIII. 

Since all who deal in salt have skill 

As Midas had of old, 
May salt to-day our coffers fill, 

And ev'ry grain be gold. 




THE MONK AND LADY. 



The Lady's Shelf. 



A legend of Hilbree Island. 




N islet rises from the waves 
Where Deva weds the sea ; 
Its shores fresh and salt water laves 
The isle is called Hilbree. 



II. 



There is a cave with pink flowers dight 
(Bairns ' Lady Cushions ' call) ; 

Hence you may gaze on ocean's might, 
Far grandest scene of all. 



III. 



The grotto's y'clept the 'Lady's Cave,' 

A ledge of rock behind 
The 'Lady's Shelf is named, by wave 

Spray lashed and eke by wind. 



IV. 



Fond youth and maidens fair meet there. 

To while a summer's hour ; 
And laughter gay, and merry cheer, 

Oft ring through rocky bower. 



I20 The Lady's Shelf. 



V. 

Little they reck that in this grot 
A monk his beads once told ! — 

That to that shelf, that very spot, 
The waves a maid's corse rolled ! 

VI. 

List, ladies ! list ! whilst I unfold 

Of love and woe a mine ; 
At Hilbree Isle watched monks of old 

St. Hildeburs:ha\ shrine. 



VII. 

A Benedictine monk with toil 
Here hollowed out a cave ; 

And here alone would come to foil 
Satan or watch the wave. 



VIII. 

One e'en he sought his loved retreat. 
When on that shelf he saw 

A beauteous maid pale as a sheet 
Bespurpled o'er with gore. 

IX. 

Rich was the vesture she had on, 
Though stained and dank with wet 

A carcanet of jewels shone 
Amidst her tresses jet. 



The Lady's Shelf. 121 



•x. 

Sudden he flew to seek some aid, 
(Should Hfe's chain be unbroke) ; 

\\Tien a weak voice his footsteps stayed, 
And thus the maiden spoke : 

XI. 

Stay, father, stay, a daughter shrive, 
Whose time on earth is short : 

The moments wane I 've yet to Hve, — 
Oh ! I am sore distraught. 

XII. 

A knightly pennon floats abroad. 
From Shotwyke's turrets high, 

Of Shotwyk^s tower my sire is lord, 
His only daughter— I. 



XIII. 

Save me, he child had none beside ; 

Ne'er knew I mother's care ; 
For young and beautiful she died 

The hour that me she bare. 



XIV. 

Edgar alone, my father's esquire 
(He was an orphan boy). 

Brother and sister was, my sire 
With me loved him to toy. 



122 The Lady's Shelf. 



XV. 

'T was he my merlin from its nest 
Reclaimed and tamed for me ; 

Zealous, forestalled my least behest, 
And where I. went — was he. 



XVI. 

* My bark upset where deep 's the wave ; 

'T was Edgar's ready hand 
That drew me from a watery grave, 
And brought me safe to land. 

XVII. 

* A robber band in ambush lay, 

And carried me away ; 
'T was Edgar's chance their chief to slay. 
And snatch me from the fray. 

XVIII. 

At dead of night the crackling fire 
Wrapped round my sleeping bower ; 

'T was Edgar scaled the burning pyre. 
And bore me from the tower. 

XIX. 

' Edgar was tall and strong, his hair 
Curled o'er his forehead broad; 
First in the chace, and first in war, 
He looked of all the lord. 



The Lady's Shelf. 123 



XX. 

Cunning in gentler arts of peace, 
The song, the tale, the lyre, 

He knew my maiden heart to please, 
And felt a kindred fire. 

XXI. 

We loved — 't is an old tale ! yes, we 
Loved, yet ne'er spoke of love : 

Unfelt, it came all noislessly. 
Like feathers on the dove. 



XXII. 

' We dreamt — Alas how changed the scene 

This happiness must last, 
The future 'd prove as erst had been 

Our present to our past. 



XXIII. 

' Not long the calm — in summer hour. 
The thunder's roll we hear, 

When not a sigh floats through the air 
The hurricane is near. 



XXIV. 

' A Welsh knight came, by rumour famed, 

He sought my father's side j 
His blood, his wealth, his love proclaimed, 

And prayed me for his bride. 



124 The Lady's Shelf. 



XXV. 

' My sire the wished-for promise past, 

Too easy was he wiled, 
With noble lord in wedlock fast 

To bind his only child. 



XXVI. 

' Instant he sought my bower — well pleased, 

Exulting, told his tale ; 
My sinking frame confusion seized, 

I turned as spectre pale. 

XXVII. 

' Long had I lived in fancy's maze, 
The truth now flashed out bright ; 

I felt with one I 'd pass my days — 
That one, was not the Knight. 

XXVIII. 

' Too soon my proud sire learnt the cause 

Why I the stranger fled ; 
He threatened sore, but nature's laws 

Were not to be gainsaid. 

XXIX. 

' The drawbridge fell, Llewellyfi'Sy steed 

Away my suitor bears : 
I felt as when in straitest need 

A wretch his respite hears. 



The Lady's Shelf. 125 



PART IL 

XXX. 

' " Gertrude^' one morn my father cried, 

" Thy bravest kirtle don. 
With an old friend, before next tide, 

We '11 spend some hours anon." 

XXXI. 

' Soon we embarked ; our shallop flew, 
Brightly the sunbeams played ; 

"WTiat fate prepared I little knew — 
Alas, I was betrayed ! 

XXXII. 

' As our bark neared the Point of Air ^ 

Sternly my father said, 
" Gertrude^ thy fate is sealed — to share 

As bride Llewellyn'?, bed. 

XXXIII. 

' " This e'en the marriage-party meet, 

The vassals throng around ; 
The daughter of a Knight 't is meet 

Should a Knight's bride be found. 

XXXIV. 

' " In vain you now for Edgar grieve, 
That love-sick boy I 've found 

A bridal couch he '11 never leave — 
The ocean depths profound." 



126 The Lady's Shelf. 



XXXV. 



' I heard of hated spousals near, 
And shuddered as he spoke ; 

I felt no fear, I shed no tear, 
Although my heart was broke. 



XXXVI. 

' But when he told of Edgar' ^ death, 

Fainting I sank on deck ; 
Light left mine eyes, my fleeting breath 

Escaped my body's wreck. 



xxxvii. 
* I felt as if all round was dark, 

I thought (as in a dream) 
A sudden surge swept o'er the bark 

And whelmed me in its stream. 



XXXVIII. 

' Methought I heard my father's voice 
Cry frantic — " Save my child — 

Edgar still lives ! if he 's thy choice 
He 's mine — my child ! my child ! " 

XXXIX. 

* The waters wild my frame upbore, 
Bechilled by beating wave ; 

A dreadful shock — I felt no more 
Till wakened in this cave. 



The Lady's Shelf. 127 



XL. 

' My ebbing pulse foretells my doom. 

Strip off each bridal gem ; 
Wed my cold body to the tomb, 

And sing my requiem. 



XLI. 

' Tell Edgar I 've been sorely tried, 

That with my latest breath — ' 
She ceased — the monk looked up and sighed, 

He felt that it was— Death. 



XLII. 

Pink flowers still deck that rocky bower 

In beauty, as of old ; 
But never monk there, from that hour. 

His beads hath ever told. 



XLII I. 

The Dee and Wave their floods entwine, 

As they had done of yore ; 
But famed St. JlildeMirgha's shrine 

Cowled fathers watch no more. 



Stanza 2. ' Bairns Lady Cushions call ; ' this is the popular name for the Sea Thrift, or 
Pink, which grows in profusion on Hilbree Island. Hilbree Island belongs to the parish 
of St. Oswald of Chester, though distant t^venty miles. 



The Souler's Soni 



[The Soulers, on All Souls' Eve, go from door to door ' Souling,' i.e. singing, drinking, 
and begging. It is a remnant of the popish superstition of praying at that particular 
season for departed souls. All Souls' Day is set apart in many Roman Catholic countries 
for the living to visit the graves of their departed friends and relations.] 



E gentlemen of Efigland, I would have ye draw near 
To these few lines which we have wrote, and which 

you soon shall hear, 
Sweet melody of music all on this evening clear, 
For we are come a souling for apples and strong beer. 




Step down into your cellar, and see what you can find ; 
If your barrels are not empty, I hope you will prove kind ; 
I hope you will prove kind with your apples and strong beer, 
We '11 come no more a souling until another year. 



III. 



Cold winter, it is coming on, dark, dirty, wet, and cold ; 
To try your goodnature this night we do make bold ; 
This night we do make bold with your apples and strong beer ; 
We will come no more a souling until another year. 



The Souler's Song, 



129 



IV. 



All the houses we Ve been at we 've had both meat and drink, 
So now we 're dry with travehing, I liope you '11 on us think. 
I hope you '11 on us think, with your apples and strong beer, 
And we '11 come no more a souling until another year. 



God bless the master of this house, and the mistress also ; 
And all the little children that round the table go ; 
Likewise your men and maidens, your cattle, and your store, 
And all that lies within your gates, we wish you ten times more. 
We wish you ten times more, with your apples and strong beer, 
For we '11 come no more a souling until another year. 




Quaesitum Meritis. 



[At the Annual Tarporley Hunt Meeting, all toasts considered worthy of the honour an 
drunk in a Qusesitum, a name j^iven to particular glasses from the inscription they bear— 
' QujKsitum Meritis. 'J 



CLUB of good fellows, we meet once a year, 
When the leaves of the forest are yellow and sear 
By the motto that shines in each glass it is shown 
We pledge in our cups the deserving alone. 

Our glass a Quaesitum, ourselves Cheshire men, 

May we fill it and drink it again and again. 




We hold in abhorrence all Vulpicide knaves. 
With their guns and their traps, and their velveteen slaves 
They may feed their fat pheasants, their foxes destroy. 
And mar the prime sport they themselves can't enjoy ; 
But such sportsmen as these we good fellows condemn, 
And I vow we '11 ne'er drink a Quaesitum to them. 

III. 
That man of his wine is unworthy indeed 
Who grudges to mount a poor fellow in need ; 
Who keeps for nought else but to purge them with balls, 
Like a dog in a manger, his nags in their stalls ; 
Such niggards as these we good fellows condemn. 
And I vow we '11 ne'er drink a Quaesitum to them. 



Quaesitum Mentis. 131 



IV. 

Some riders there are who, too jealous of place, 
Will fling back a gate in their next neighbour's face ] 
Some never pull up when a friend gets a fall ; 
Some ride over friends, hounds, horses, and all ; 
Such riders as these we good fellows condemn, 
And I vow we '11 ne'er drink a Qusesitam to them. 



For coffee-house gossip some hunters come out, 
Of all matters prating save that they're about : 
From scandal and cards they to politics roam, 
They ride forty miles, head the fox, and go home ! 
Such sportsmen as these we good fellows condemn. 
And I vow we '11 ne'er drink a Qu?esitum to them. 

VI. 

Since one fox on foot more diversion will bring 

Than twice twenty thousand cock pheasants on wing. 

That man we all honour, whatever his rank, 

Whose heart heaves a sigh when his gorse is drawn blank. 

Qusesitum ! quaesitum ! fill up to the brim. 

We '11 drink if we die for 't, a bumper to him. 

VII. 

O give me that man to whom nought comes amiss, 
One horse or another, that country or this. 
Through falls and bad starts who undauntedly still 
Rides up to this motto, ' Be with 'em I will.' 
Quresitum ! quaesitum ! fill up to the brim ; 
We '11 drink if we die for 't, a bumper to him. 



132 Quaesitum Meritis. 



VIII. 

Oh give me that man who can ride through a run, 
Nor engross to himself all the glory when done ; 
Who calls not each horse that o'ertakes him a ' screw, 
Who loves a run best when a friend sees it too ! 
Qu^situm ! quaesitum ! fill up to the brim, 
We '11 drink if we die for 't, a bumper to him. 

TX. 

Oh give me that man who himself goes the pace, 
And whose table is free to all friends of the chase : 
Should a spirit so choice in this wide world be seen, 
He rides, you may swear, in a collar of green. 
Quaesitum ! qucesitum ! fill up to the brim, 
We '11 drink if we die for 't, a bumper to him. 



I heard an old Cheshire sportsman assert vehemently that he would sooner have written 
the above song than the * Annals' of Tacitus.— E.L. 




^^M 


|M 


^^^^B 


^^^M 


^^m 


^^^^^^m 



The Two Rectors, 



A tale of italpas. 

[To explain the Cheshire proverb ' Higgledy Piggledy Malpas shot, let every tuh stand 
on its own bottom. '] 




WAS once on a time — 'T is the regular way 
A tale to begin, should one have ought to say ; 
'T was once on a time — I repeat it again, 
Some great king (like Haroun Al Raschid) was 
fain 
To see for himself what things passed in his reahn ; 
I don't know his name, if I knew it I'd tell 'm ; 
'T was Edgar perhaps, or possibly Giiilldin — 
His name never mind — though I am not of those 
Who could for one instant be brouglit to suppose, 
If toadstool 't were named, I could fancy a rose 
Would equally please a fastidious nose. 
I can't think that Ba7'bara, Cicely, or Peggy, 
That Dowse, Joan, Dorothy, Lettice, or Meggy, 
Can have such sweet faces as Gei-triuie or Blanche, 
Or others in v\^hose praises fain I would launch ; 
But I won't mention more, for in Cheshire the beauties 
Are so many in number, that one poet's duties 
Vv^ould hardly suffice to enumerate all 
The names of those ladies whom lovely we call 



134 The Two Rectors. 



The King, in his wanderings, to Malpas chance came, 
A picturesque town with an ill-omened name. 
He went to the inn — whether Angel or Cjvzuji 
Is not said — but conclude 'twas the best in the town. 
He called for the landlord, and ordered of ale 
A large humming tankard, at once, without fail; 
Then went to the taproom, where, sipping their beer, 
Sat Rector and Curate, enjoying good cheer. 
The parsons he joined, who indeed did not know then 
(Incognito kings are so very like low men) 
That a king had come in — for never a king 
Had before come to Ma/pas ; in short, 't was a thing 
That th' oldest inhabitant (oft-quoted being) 
Could not to his memory in any shape bring. 
The Rector was fat — I would lay you a bet, 
That 'mongst all his songs he 'd not ' Dinna forget ; ' 
In short, a man he was fond of his dinner. 
Who's not ? The Curate was visibly thinner. 
Thick as thieves they became, and past a pleasant night; 
Talked over the times — not the Times of this day, 
For then e'en the Times was not published, they say. 
Thus, Rector enlightened, the King got a sight 
Of what, hitherto, he 'd been ignorant quite; 
What the talk of the town — the poor — price of flour — 
What was said of himself The King in one hour 
Had then more etc?eteras brought to his ears 
Than he'd heard at court in twice as many years. 
All things have an end— they had talked, drunk, and fed. 
And thought now 't was time all to toddle to bed ; 
They call for the bill, a serious total — 
Hot suppers, "Welsh rabbits, six brandies, and ale. 



The Two Rectors. 



The King saw the Curate most visibly quail, 

And, shivering, turn for a moment quite pale, 

As, sighing, it struck him a third of that bill 

Must come from a purse could afford it but ill. 

Says the King to the Rector, ' Come, let us stand treat.' 

' No, no,' quoth the Rector, ' that would not be reeght; 

You've ne'er heard our Alalpas old proverb, I wot ; 

It is " Higgledy Piggledy Malpas shot ; " 

Which means, that vvith us when a man drinks his beer. 

He must not think others must pay for his cheer.' 

Quoth the King, ' y>/(7:^<?/<^/ measure (I think) "heap and 

thrutch," 
Is a ChcsJw'e proverb than yours better much ; 
For this is a generous notion, whilst yours 
A mean excuse is for a most shabby course ; 
Come, let's pay his shot, if you'll take counsel mine. 
You may some day say it is better than thine. 
Remember ! " A stitch in time sometimes saves nine." ' 
The Rector was stupid ; the King paid the shot 
For self and the Curate, who, pleased with his lot, 
Wished doubtless the stranger for rector he 'd got. 
Next morn came an Edict — the Rector to vex : 
It began — To all greeting — ended, Vivat Rex. 
Joint Rector it made the thin Curate. Besides, 
Half glebe, half offerings, and half of the tithes. 
V/hat the new Rector gained the old Rector lost, 
V/hich the latter soon found out too true to his cost. 
The cause of the sad change he could not divine. 
Till, startling, he thought ' A stitch in time saves nine ! ' 



136 The Two Rectors, 



He shivered and shrank, when it burst on his mind, 
It must be the King ! with whom last night I dined. 
He cursed ' Malpas shot,' but too late he repined. 
From that time the King had thus settled the matter, 
Th' old Rector grew thinner, the new one grew fatter. 
From that day to this the case always has been 
Two Rectors at Malpas together are seen. 



Line 21. ' An ill-omened name,' Mal-pas. — Line 61. ' Maxfield measure.' Maxficld or 
Macclesfield measure, 'heap and thrutch,'is a local proverb implying full, generous, over- 
flowing measure. In a Cheshire May song occurs the following incitement to generosity : 

Give every one two and above. 
The more you do give the more you will have, 
And God will you certainly love. 

Line 56. 'That would not be reeght,' Cheshire for right. In an address of part of the 
Chester grand jury to Sir J. Jekyl, about 1710 (versified), we find the following line : 

Reeght natural spriggs of the Rump Parliament. 

There are two rectors at Lymn as well as at Malpas ; but in the former town there is 
no traditionary royal visit or any reason, indeed, to account for it. A pleasant story 
concerning the name of Malpas we find in Giraldus Cambrensis. ' It happened in our 
times that a certain Jew, travelling towards Shrewsbury with the Archdeacon of this place 
whose name was Peche (i.e. Sin), and the Dean who was called Devel, and hearing the 
Archdeacon say that his Archdeaconry began at a place called " 111 Street " and reached 
as far as Malpas (Mal-pas) towards Chester, — the Jew, knowing both their names, told 
them very pleasantly, " He found it would be a miracle if ever he got safe out of this 
county; and his reason was, because Sin was the Archdeacon, and the Devil was the 
Dean ; and, moreover, because the entry into the Archdeaconry was 111 Street, and the 
going forth again Mal-pas." ' 




Ode on Vale Royal. 

[Written by Warton, probably about the middle of the i8th century.] 



S evening slowly spreads her mantle hoar, 
No ruder sounds the bounded valley fill 
Than the faint din from yonder sedgy shore 
Of rushing waters and the murmuring mill. 



II. 



How sunk the scene where cloistered leisure mused ! 

■ Where war-worn Edward paid his awful vow, 
And, lavish of magnificence, diffused 

His crowded spires o'er the broad mountain's brow. 



III. 



The golden fans (that o'er the turret strown, 
Quick glancing to the sun, wild music made,) 

Are reft, and ev'ry battlement o'ergrown 

With knotted thorns and the tall sapling's shade. 



IV. 



The prickly thistle sheds its plumy crest. 

And matted nettles shade the crumbling mass, 

Where shone the pavement's surface smooth imprest, 
With rich reflection of the stoned glass. 



138 ode on Vale Royal. 



V. 

Here hardy chieftains slept in proud repose, 
Subhmely shrined in glorious imagery; 

And through the lessening aisles in radiant rows 
Their consecrated banners huns: on high. 



VI. 

There oxen browse, and there the sable yew 

Through the dim void displays its baleful glooms, 

And sheds in lingering drops unwholesome dew 
O'er the forgotten graves and scattered tombs. 



VII. 

By the slow clock in stately measured chime, 
That from the massy tower tremendous tolled. 

No more the ploughman counts the tedious time, 
Nor distant shepherd pens his twilight fold. 



VIII. 

High o'er the trackless heath, at midnight seen, 
No more the windows ranged in long array, 

(Where the tall shaft, and fretted nook between 
Thick ivy twines) the tapered rights betray. 

IX. 

E'en now, amidst the wavering ivy wreaths 

(While kindred thoughts the pensive sounds inspire] 

When the weak breeze in many a whisper breathes, 
I seem to listen to tiie chanting quire. 



ode on Vale RoyaL 



139 



X. 

As o'er these shattered towers intent we muse, 
Though reared by charity's capricious zeal ; 

Yet can our breasts soft pity's sigh refuse % 
Or conscious candour's modest plea conceal ? 

XI. 

For though the sorceress (Superstition blind), 
Amid the pomp of dreadful sacrifice, 

O'er the dim roofs, to cheat the tranced mind. 
Oft made her visionary gleams arise ; 

XII. 

Though the vain hours unsocial sloth beguiled, 
Whilst the still cloister's gate oblivion locked ; 

And through the chambers pale, to slumbers mild 
Wan Indolence her drowsy cradle rocked ; 

XIII. 

Yet hence, enthroned in venerable state, 
Proud Hospitality dispensed her store. 

Ah see beneath yon towers' unvaulted gate, 
Forlorn she sits upon the brambled floor ! 



XIV. 

Her ponderous vase, with Gothic portraiture 
Embossed, no more with balmy moisture flows ; 

Mid the mix'd shards, o'erwhelmed in dust obscure 
No more, as erst, the golden goblet glows. 



I40 Ode on Vale RoyaL 



XV. 

Sore beat by storms in Glory's arduous way, 
Here might Ambition muse a pilgrim sage ; 

Here raptured see Religion's evening ray 
Gild the calm walks of his reposing age. 



Here ancient Art her Dedal fancies played 
In the quaint mazes of the crisped roof ; 

In mellow glooms the speaking pane arrayed, 
And ranged the clustered column, massy proof. 



XVII. 

Here Learning, guarded from a barbarous age. 
Hovered awhile, nor dared attempt the day ; 

But patient, traced upon the pictured page 
The holy legend or heroic lay. 



XVIII. 

Hither the solitary minstrel came, 

An honoured guest ; while the grim evening sky 
Hung lowering, and around the social flame 

Tuned his bold harp to deeds of chivalry. 



XIX. 

Thus sings the Muse, all pensive and alone. 
Nor scorns within the deep fane's inmost cell 

To pluck the gray moss from the m.antled stone, 
Some holy founder's mouldering name to spell. 



ode on Vale Royal. 141 



XX. 

Thus sings the Muse, yet, partial as she sings. 
With fond regret surveys these ruined piles ; 

And with fair images of ancient things 

The captive bard's obsequious mind beguiles. 



XXI. 

But much we pardon to th' ingenuous Muse 
Her fairy shapes are tricked by fancy's pen ; 

Severer reason fonns far other views, 

And scans the scene with philosophic ken. 

XXII. 

From these deserted domes new glories rise. 
More useful institutes adorning man ; 

Manners enlarged, and new civilities. 

On fresh foundations build the social plan. 

XXIII. 

Science, on ampler plume, a bolder flight 
Essays — escaped from Superstition's shrine ; 

While freed Religion, like primaeval light 

Bursting from Chaos, spreads her warmth divine. 



This was written at Vale Roj'al. Thomas Warton, the historian of English poetry, as 
he was called, was born 1728, died 1790. 



Legend of the Foundation of Vale 
Royal Abbey. 



PART I. 




RINCE Edivard ^2JA^^ from Palestine^ 
And left the Paynim's shore ; 
To Engla7ia\ diffs he ploughed the brine, 
The toil of batde o'er. 



A truce is won at deadly cost 
By deeds of derring do, 

A way midst Holy Land is forced 
For pilgrims to pass through. 



III. 



Prince Edward'^ standard high aloft, 
The ' Golden Dragon,' Avaves ; 

Swelled by fair winds and breezes soft, 
Or the dark storm throb braves. 



Legend of Vale Royal Abbey 143 



IV. 

At Sicily bad tidings wait 

Prince Edwai^d'^ home-filled sail ; 
King Henry ^ reign was closed by fate ; 

England'^ King ! Edward ! Hail ! 



V. 

Away ! Away ! we cannot stay, 
Homewards our course must wing ; 

No loitering here. Away ! Away ! 
Fair Eiigland waits her King. 



VI. 

Again starts forth the gallant bark, 

Pressed on like fiery steed ; 
In noonday bright, through midnight dark, 

Ne'er slacked its headlong speed. 



VII. 

The crew of home 'gan dream apart. 

Or talk of hopes and fears, 
Which the long absent wanderer's heart 

So often frights and cheers. 

VIII. 

' There's many a slip twixt cup and lip,' 

So sages say of old ; 
Before she England sights, the ship 

Must dangers breast untold. 



144 Legend of the Foundation of 



IX. 

A wild storm rose — against the side 
Wild winds and billows beat, 

Sad are the perils ships betide 
When sky and waters meet. 



X. 

O'er the roused ocean broods dark night ; 
^ Darkness, like Egypfs, dire, 
Save where forked lightnings threatenings write 
In characters of fire. 



XI. 

Then paled the face of many a knight, 

And eke of warrior brave, 
Who oft had dared grim death in fight, 

But shrank from watery grave. 

XII. 

In honour's cause, we thousands know 
Who 'd desperate danger face ; 

Scale beetling rock — charge 'whelming foe 
To win bright valour's race. 

XIII. 

Patent to all their deeds appear, 
Known, how and when, they fell ; 

If stretched upon a bloody bier. 
Minstrels their fame will tell. 



Vale Royal Abbey. i45 



XIV. 

But thus to die ! — for funeral wail 

Of friends, the howling wind ! 
To sink ! — nor leave of death a tale, 

Not e'en a track behind ! 

XV. 

Not gathered to that spot in death 

Where their forefathers lie ! 
Their shroud, the tangled sea-weed wreath ; 

The waves, their lullaby ! 

XVI, 

Fiercer and louder howls the gale ; 

Higher, wild waters rise ! 
Helpless the ship, split every sail, 

The sport of ocean lies. 

XVII. 

King Edward^ prostrate on his face, 

To Mary, heavenly maid. 
Suppliant at Heaven's throne for grace. 

Thus life and mercy prayed. 

KING Edward's prayer. 
Virgin Mother ! Mary blest ! 
Thou alone canst give us rest ! 
Curb the wild winds, smooth the wave, 
None but thou our lives can save. 
Home we left, to rescue land 
Profaned by false prophet's band. 



146 Legend of the Foundation of 



Where thy dear Son was born and bled, 
By murderers to slaughter led. 
In His name, preserve the host 
Which to Holy Land hath crost. 
Virgin Mary ! hear our prayer. 
Make the Red Cross knight thy care ; 
Should we Eiiglaiid see again 
I will raise to thee a fane 
Where, till time shall be no more. 
Priests in chorus shall adore 
Holy name of Mary good, 
And King Ed7vard''s> gratitude. 
Thus shall to the world proclaim 
Virgin J/rt;;7's blessed name 
Who his help in danger came. 



PART 11. 

I. 

The mountain volume of a wave 
(Which, had it struck the bark 

Had whelmed all in a common grave. 
Like Deluge — round the ark) 

11. 
Sank spellbound — such the force of prayer 

In peril's deadly hour : 
Vain 't is for th' elements to dare 

The Virgin mother's power. 



Vale Royal Abbey. 147 



III. 

The fury of the hurricane 

Stopped short in midway flight ; 

The wintry chill of driving rain 
Gave way to warm sunlight. 

IV. 

A joyous cry of ' Land ! ' What land % 
'T is England'?, longed-for shore. 

Spread out to view that well-loved strand 
They 'd thought to see no more ! 



V. 

Tast to fly danger, first to face. 

King Edward landed last ; 
And thanked the Virgin's power and grace 

That fear of death was past. 



VL 

The warriors throng the well-known shore, 

And disembark in haste \ 
Still, still, they seem to hear the roar 

Of the stirred ocean's waste. 



VII. 

But when from land they seaward look, 

Amazed they gaze around j 
The vessel they had just forsook 

Had sunk in depths profound. 
l2 



148 Legend of the Foundation of 



VIII. 

So from the fight the wounded steed 
With desperate courage flies ; 

His rider saves in utmost need, 
Then, without struggle, dies. 



IX. 

The vow the king in danger made 

Was not in safety lost ; 
The Virgin's care was soon repaid 

To Heaven, at princely cost. 



X. 

With following rare, in royal state, 
He Chester'?^ county sought ; 

Princes and nobles round him wait. 
Eke his fair queen he brought. 



XI. 

And at Vale Royal kingly hands 
Laid the foundation stone 

Of abbey, which for beauty stands 
In loveHness alone. 



XII. 

Heaven long had marked that spot her own. 

For on the Virgin's day. 
In ' Queterne Hallowes ' forest lone, 

Strange sights were seen, they say. 



Vale Royal Abbey. 149 



XIII. 

As, when a St. Clair' ^ death throe 's near, 

In Roslyn chapel aisle, 
Of bright unearthly lights we hear 

Amidst that fretted pile. 

XIV. 

So, in the stillest hours of night. 
Shepherds, awe-struck, would mark 

Vale Royal woods, with splendour bright, 
Whilst all around was dark. 

XV. 

And angel forms, in robes of fire. 
In countless troops stood round \ 

Whilst music of a heavenly choir 
Breathed forth its holy sound. 

XVI. 

Along the breeze soft notes would steal, 

As if from fairy land ; 
And bells rang out a midnight peal 

Touched by no mortal hand ! 



First Part. Stanza i. 'A truce is won ;' this was for ten years. 

Stanza 4. 'At Sicily,' &c. Edward heard of the death of his son and father at Sicily 
on his way home. The King of Sicily remarked with surprise ' that his father's death 
seemed to affect him more than that of his son.' Edward replied, that ' The latter might 
be replaced, but that the death of a father was irreparable.' 

Second Part. Stanza 12. ' Queterne Hallowes' was the old name of Vale Royal. 
Stanza 14. Old tradition. 



The Devil and the Monk. 



A Legend of Merton Sands. 



[Morton Sands were situated about a mile from Over. There used to be a festal 
gathering there every year for the purpose of ploughing Merton Sands, the origin of 
which is given below.] 




E barons and maidens of lofty degree, 

Come list to a tale that was whispered to me ; 
How once in Vale Royal a Friar uncivil 
In knavish contrivance outwitted the Devil. 



The monks were asleep, and the moon it shone clear, 
When the Devil came flying o'er fair Delaviere^ 
And fat Friar Francis in dreams did assail, 
With pasties of venison and flagons of ale. 



III. 



' Oh Friar, of ale thou shalt wassail thy fill 

If I may be witness to this thy last will, 

And all the fat bucks in broad Cheshire are thine 

If here on this parchment thy name thou wilt sign. 



The Devil and the Monk. 151 



IV. 

The scroll was unrolled, and in letters of fire 
Shone forth the last will of fat Francis the Friar; 
And thus it was worded, as I have been told 
By a major acquainted with black letters old. 

WILL. 

5 fltbe autr StqueatT) all ^z gaoti^ tf)at E l^abe 
(!r0 tT)0^e iul^o ^Ijall rarrp utd corjj^c to tijc grabe 
^utr iul^tn ]^t Ijas tfniu ftji^at 3E gitie T)tm to tro, 
^g ^0iil t0 tf)f xtnUtr^tsnctr iDitue^^ may 30. 



V. 

Agreed, said the Monk ; and Agreed, said the Devil ; 
And each put his hand to that document evil. 
Friar Francis his thumb on the wafer did stick, 
Signed, sealed, and delivered as witness, Old Nick, 



VI. 

The papers were settled — ' And now ! ' quoth the Friar, 
' From you, Father of Evil, three things I require : 
The first, good buck venison till appetite fail ; 
The second, unlimited hogsheads of ale.' 



VII. 

'All right,' quoth the Devil ; ' but now let me hear 
What's the third thing you want besides venison and beerT 
' Why this,' said the Friar, ' that on yonder sands 
Oi Merion^ you twine me a dozen hay-bands.' 



152 The Devil and the Monk, 



VIII. 

The Devil sought grass by the hght of the moon, 
And the Devil he searched in the sunshine of noon ; 
And the Devil he wandered from Mersey to Dee^ 
But nowhere on Merton Sands band twisted he. 

IX. 

The Abbot he sat on his cushion of state, 
Good ale he quaffed down and buck venison he ate ; 
But long as his monks in good living may revel 
He never again will say ' Done ' to the Devil. 

X. 

And whilst in fair Cheshire stout yeomen are found. 
On those Merton Sands they shall fallow the ground, 
Where never a blade of green grass must remain 
Lest the Devil come back to Vak Royal again. 





THE POET DRAYION. 



The Men of Cheshire. 

[In Drayton's ' Barons' Wars,' Stanza 52, is the following notice of the men of Cheshire.] 

HE noble Welsh of th' ancient British race ; 
From Lancashire men famous for their bows j 
The men of Cheshire chiefest for their place, 
Of bone so big as only made for blows, 
And have been ever fearful to their foes. 
The Northern men in feuds so deadly fell. 
That for their spear and horsemanship excel. 






Fearful has here a curious meaning, viz. causing fear to others. Drayton uses dread 
in the same sense. 






Motto of Cheshire. 



[In the 23rd Song of Drayton's ' Polyolbion ' the mottoes of most of the English counties 
are given ; the following is that of Cheshire given by him.] 



LD Cheshire is well-known to be the Chief of Men. 

And again in Song XI. 

' For which our proverb calls her Cheshire Chief of 

Men: 




ivcb lit tljcir oxha as tbcji muslcrcb lucre 
'r bn t^c biffcrcncc of tljcu" tolom's knobn. 




liiiiiaiii^ 




Sdllj^rjeiu u man ii^oii a lioft rok. 



Emblem of Cheshire. 

[Michael Drayton, a poet, was born about 1563. He wrote a poem on the battle of Agin- 
court, and describes the men of the different county regiments embarking : — 
' Each in their order as they mustered were 
Or by the difference of their armings known 
Or by their colours.' 
After mentioning the distinctive emblems of many counties, the following stanza occurs 
in which the emblem of Cheshire is given as i was at the beginning of the fifteenth 
century. ] 

LD Nottingham an archer clad in green. 

Under a tree with his drawn bow that stood, 
Which in a chequered flag far off was seen: 
It was the picture of old Robin Hood. 

And Lancashire, not as the least I ween, 

Thro' three crowns three arrows smeared with blood. 

Cheshire, a banner very square and broad, 

Whereon a man upon a hon rode. 





^^^^^^^^ 




^^^^^^^^^^m 


^^^m 



Polyolbion. 



[Drayton wrote a topographical poem, called ' Polyolbion,' in thirty books or songs, the 
first eigliteen of which he published in 1612. The eleventh song treats chiefly of Cheshire, 
and has been frequently quoted ; what refers to the County Palatine in that song is as follows : 

The muse, her native earth to see, 
Returns to England over Dee ; 
Visits stout Cheshire, and there shews 
To her and hers what Cheshire owes. 
And of the nymphlets sporting there, 
In Wyrral and in Delamere, 
Weever the great devotion sings, 
Of the religious Saxon kings. 
Those riverets doth together call, 
Which into him and Mersey fall. 
&c. &c. &c.] 




ITH as unwearied wings, and in as high a gait, 
As when we first set forth observing every state. 
The muse from Cambria comes with pinions summ'd 
And having put herself upon the English ground, [and sound ; 
First seizeth in her course the noblest Cestrian shore 
Of our great English bloods, as careful here of yore 
As Cambria of her brutes now is or could be then, 
For which our proverb calls her ' Cheshire Chief of Men.' 
And of our counties place of Palatine doth hold. 
And thereto hath her high legahties enrolled. 
Besides, in many fields since conquering William came, 
Her people she hath proved, to her eternal fame : 



Polyolbion. i57 



All children of her own, the leader and the led, 

The mightiest men of bone in her full bosom bred ; 

And neither of them such as cold penurious need 

Spurs to each rash attempt ; but such as soundly feed, 

Clad in warm English cloth ; and maimed should they return 

(Whom this false ruthless world else from their doors would 

Have livelihood of their own their ages to sustain. [spurn) 

Nor did the tenant's pay the landlord's charge maintain; 

But as abroad in war he spent of his estate. 

Returning to his home, his hospitable gate 

The richer and the poor stood open to receive. 

They of all E?igla7id most to ancient customs cleave. 

Their yeomanry, and still endeavour to uphold ; 

For rightly whilst herself brave England was of old, 

And our courageous kings us forth to conquest led. 

Our armies in those times (near through the v^^orld so dread) 

Of our tall yeomen were, and footmen for the most, 

Who (with their bills and bows) can confidently boast. 

Our leopards they so long and bravely did advance 

Above the fleur-de-lys, even in the heart of France. 

O thou thrice happy shire confined so to be 

'Twixt two so famous floods as Me7'sey is and Dee ! 

Thy Dee upon the west from Wales doth thee divide, 

Thy Mersey on the north from the Lancastrian side, 

Thy natural sister shire, and linkt unto thee so 

That Lancashire along with Cheshire still doth go. 

As towards the Derbian Peak and Moreland (which do draw 

More mountainous and wild), the high-crowned Shntlingslaw 

And Molcop be thy mounds, with those proud hills whence rove 

The lovely sister brooks, the silvery Dane and Dove — 



158 Polyolb 



ton. 



Clear Dove that makes to Tre7it^ the other to the west ; 

But in that famous town most happy of the rest 

(From which thou takest thy name), fair Chester^ called of old 

CarIegio7i, whilst proud Ro7ne her conquests here did hold; 

Of those her legions known the faithful station then, 

So stoutly held to tack by those near North Wales men ; 

Yet by her own right name had rather called be, 

As her the Britons termed the fortress upon Dee. 

Than vainly she would seem a miracle to stand 

Th' imaginary work of some huge giant's hand, 

Which, if such ever where, tradition tells not who — 

But back awhile my muse to Weever let us go, 

Which (with himself compared) each British flood doth scorn ; 

His fountain and his fall, both Chester''^ rightly born. 

The country in his course that clean he doth divide, 

Cut in two equal shares upon his either side. 

And what that famous flood far more than all enriches 

The bracky fountains are those two renowned Wyches ! 

The Nant- Wych and the Noi'th — whose either briny well 

For store and sorts of salts make Weever to excel. 

Besides their general use, not had by him in vain, 

But in himself thereby doth holiness retain 

Above his fellow floods, whose healthful virtues taught 

Hath of the sea gods oft caused Weever to be sought 

For physick in their need; and Thetis oft hath seen. 

When by their wanton sports her Nerides have been, 

So sick that Glaucus' self hath failed in their cure, 

Yet Weever by his salts recovery durst assure. 

And Amphitrite oft this wizard river led 

Into her secret walks (the depths profound and dread) 



Polyolbion. 159 



Of him (supposed so wise), the hid events to know 

Of things that were to come, as things done long ago — 

In which he had been proved most exquisite to be ; 

And bare his fame so far that oft twixt him and Dee 

Much strife there hath arose in their prophetic skill. 

But to conclude our praise — our Weevcr here doth will 

The muse his source to sing, as how his course he steers, 

Who from his natural spring, as from the neighbouring meres, 

Sufficiently supplied shoots forth his silver breast, 

As though he meant to take directly towards the east, 

Until at length he proves he loitereth but to play 

Till Ashbrook and the Lee o'ertake him on his way. 

Which to his journey's end him earnestly do haste 

Till, having got to Wych^ he taketh there a taste 

Of her most savoury salt, is by the sacred touch 

Forced faster in his course, his motion quickened much, 

To Northwych^ and at last as he approacheth near 

Dane^ Whelock draws then Crock from the black ominous mere, 

Accounted one of those that EnglamV^ wonders make ; 

Of neighbours Blackmere named, of strangers Brereto7i's Lake. 

Whose property seems far from reasons why to stand : 

For near before his death that 's owner of the land 

She sends up stocks of trees that on the top do float, 

By which the world her first did for a wonder note. 

His handmaid Howty next to Weever holds her race, 

When Peever, with the help of Pickmere^ makes apace 

To put in with those streams his sacred steps that tread 

Into the mighty waste of Mersey him to lead ; 

Where, when the rivers meet with all their stately train, 

Proud Mersey is so great of entering the main, 



i6o Polyolbion. 



As he would make a show for empery to stand, 
And wrest the threeforkt mace from out stern Neptune' ?> hand. 
To Cheshire highly bound for that his wat'ry store, 
As to the grosser locks on the Lancastrian shore. 
From hence he getteth Goyt down from his Peakish spring, 
And Bollin that along doth nimbler Birkeii bring 
From Maxfield's mighty wilds, of whose shaggy Silvans she 
Hath in the rocks been wooed, her paramour to be ; 
Who in the darksome holes and caverns kept her long, 
And that proud forest made a party to her wrong : 
Yet could not all entreat the pretty brook to stay 
Which to her stream sweet Bollin creeps away ; 
To whom upon her road she pleasantly reports 
The many mirthful jests and wanton woodish sports 
In Maxfield they have had, as of that forest's fate, 
Until they come at length where Mersey for more state. 
Assuming broader banks himself, so proudly bears. 
That at his stern approach extended Wirral fears 
That what betwixt his floods of Mersey and the Dee^ 
In very little time devoured he might be. 
Out of the foaming surge till Hilbre lifts his head 
To let the foreland see how richly he had sped. 

&c. &c. 



What follows does not refer to Cheshire. 




Belfry Rhymes. 



[Formerlj'- existing at Holmes Chapel.] 




HO EVER rings with spur or hat 
Shall pay the clerk a groat for that ; 
Whoever swears, or bell turns o'er, 
Shall forfeit fourpence, if not more ; 

If any shall do aught amiss 

Threepence the forfeit is. 

Observe these laws, and break them not, 

Lest you lose your pence for that. 




M 




A Legend of Combermere, 

I. 

HE sun shone clear on the broad bright mere, 

And the menials thronged its shore : 
They sought to guide from the deep flood tide 
The bells of the monks of yore. 



II. 
When lo, from the mere, these words of fear 

Struck awe to the listeners round ; 
It seemed from the wave some spirit gave 

That supernatural sound. 

III. 
' Let none who would sweep these bells from the deep 

One word unholy use \ 
Or his strength shall be vain, and never again 

Shall they rise from their watery ooze. 

IV. 

And deep mid the wave shall be his grave, 

An undiscovered tomb ; 
And this smiling shore shall smile no more 

Till the fated blast of doom.' 



A Legend of Combermere. 163 



V. 

With awe and fear the menials steer 

A vast bell to the side, 
Till it rests on land, and with eager hand 

One grasped its rim and cried — 

VI. 

' Though earth and air and the waters there, 

Conspire with the massive bell ; 
In spite of them all, it no more shall fall, 

I swear by the fiends of hell ! ' 

VII. 

Scarce had he spoke when with thundering stroke 

The crumbling earth gave way, 
And the waters swell o'er the holy bell 

And the sinful son of clay. 

VIII. 

They dragged the mere both far and near, 

But their comrade never found ; 
And their sons still tell of the holy bell 

That the impious scomer drowned. 



The bells of Combermere Abbey are said to have been removed to Wrenburj'- Church, 
and to be identical with those still there. 




Barning the Applet on Thorn. 

[This merrymaking (now discontinued) used to be held annually on the 29th of June, 
St. Peter's day. The adjoining public-house is the Thorn. R. E. Wai'burton (the lord of 
the manor) some years since replaced the old dead thorn.] 




CHORUS. 

ARN the old Thorn 
At peep of dawn, 
This happy morn 
Barn the Thorn. 



Hasten lads and lassies all, 
Here together neighbours call ; 
Let the trumpet's brazen tongue 
Summons all, both old and young. 

Chorus^ Barn &c. 



Years, years ago thy shade hath seen 
Our grandames dancing on the green, 
Hath seen our sires as wee things play 
And while the summer hours away. 

Chorus, Barn &c. 



Earning the Appleton Thorn. 165 



III, 

Branches of thy fragrant May, 
By love-sick swain, at break of day 
Have oft been hung at maiden's door, 
With Nature's gems bespangled o'er. 

Chorus^ Barn &c. 

IV. 

Here vows of love have oft been made 
By fond youth whispering in thy shade ; 
Oft hath the evening breeze I wiss 
Mixed with the murmur of a kiss. 

Chorus^ Barn &c. 

V. 

Thy ruby stores (to childhood's eye 
So beautiful), when winter 's nigh, 
Tempt startled field-fares to thy tree, 
By hunger tamed, to feast on thee. 

Chorus^ Barn &c. 

VI. 

Slowly beneath thy boughs hath past. 
When earth to earth returns at last 
As generations melt away. 
The weeping funeral array. 

Chorus^ Barn&c. 

VII. 

But to-day away with sorrow. 
Nought shall grieve us till to-morrow : 
With dance and feast and village lay 
We '11 celebrate our barning day. 

Chorus, Barn &c. 



i66 Earning the Appleton Thorn. 



VIII. 

Clip the hawthorn, scatter flowers, 
Rob for this the brightest bowers ; 
Urge on the dance and wassail — say 
We will, we will be mad to-day. 

CHORUS. 

Barn the old Thorn 
At peep of dawn. 
This happy morn 
Barn the Thorn. 



* Barn the Thorn.' Wilbraham, in his Glossary, calls it bawming (which means the same 
thing). Mr. Beamont, our accurate local antiquary, tells me the inhabitants of Appleton 
called it 'barning,' i.e. adorning. 

Stanza 3. * Branches of thy fragrant May,' &c. Hanging up a Ijrnnch of May-flowers 
at your sweetheart's door was considered most complimentary ; but if a maiden in 
Cheshire finds an ouler branch (alder) hung up at her door, she knows some one considers 
her a scold. 




^^M 


mm 


sx^^s^l^^Pl 


msssss^ 





Inscription for the Ale House (near 
Appleton Thorn) called the ^ Thorn.' 




S long as you 're sober you 're safe at the Thorn, 
But if drunk over night it will prick you next morn ; 
May the lord of the manor who planted it thrive, 
May the wenches who bawm it all speedily wive ; 

May the old 'neath its shadow in comfort repose, 

And Appleton flourish as long as it gi-ows. 




A Song for the Teucerean Archers of 
Stockport, 

Tune : Colonel Lcgh's (of Lyme) Hunting Song. 



OW happy are archers who draw the long bow, 
No pastime affords such diversion below, 
The hours of our sport seem to pass on by stealth 
In manly exertion conducive to health ; 
Like Sherwood free rangers our skill we display. 
With harmony closing the sport of the day. 




II. 
Whenever bold Robin his bugle-horn blew, 
Their bows they unstnmg, and relaxed the stiff yew ; 
Then sung the achievements of archers so good, 
Whilst * Hey down a down ' echoed through the greenwood. 
Like them, ere the dew fall, our bows we unstring. 
And songs to the honour of archery sing. 



The Teucerean Archers. 1^9 



III. 

No sports of the field can with archery vie. 
Let hunters dash after the hounds at full cry, 
Our archery well every muscle can brace, 
And we run no risks like the sons of the chase; 
While at this diversion our skill we display, 
With harmony closing the sport of the day. 



IV. 

What toils on the heath, all bespattered and wet, 
A sportsman must take if some grouse he would get 
In cold, hail, and rain he the weather must stand. 
While we have refreshment and shelter at hand ; 
Where if the sky lowers we partake of good cheer, 
And again bend our bows when the weather is clear. 



v. 

With dog and with gun who would now range the fields -, 

Laborious the toil, and small purchase it yields : 

But archers, whene'er to the ground they resort, 

Defy any poachers for spoiling their sport ; 

While at their diversion their skill they display. 

With harmony closing the sport of the day. 



VI. 

Then here 's to all archers — long may they survive, 
And still at their art for the mastery strive. 



I70 The Teucerean Archers, 



When, aged, no more their long bows can they bend, 
With health, independence, a bottle and friend ; 
Respected by archers, free, social, and gay. 
May they talk of the matches they shot in their day. 



This song must have been written towards the end of the eighteenth century. 



[In a song composed upon archery, by Ogden, in the general enumeration of the different 
archery clubs at that time existing in different counties of England, is the following 
notice of the Teucerean Archers, for whom the preceding song was written by Travis.] 




E UCEREAN ^xcYiQYS in the art are skilled : 
Part make their arrows fit for every length, 
And finished well in feather, notch, and pile. 
These meet where Stockport rears her hilly streets, 

High towering o'er the rocky banks of Tame, 

And holds a charter from her ancient lord, 

Who granted every burgess of his land 

An acre, with a homestead for a house. 

On payment each of twelve pence yearly rent. 

Sure money then was scarce, or lords were good ; 

'T is plenty now, or rents too high are raised.' 

In an earlier part of the same poem is the following : — 

Again, on Crispin's day at Agincourt 

The English bowmen triumphed part in front, 

Led by the King, of Cheshire men the chief 



The Teucerean Archers. 



i7[ 



And again, further on :— 

A greater slaughter yet at Floddeii Field 
Took place where Scotland''^ king in person fought, 
And fighting, fell ; Lancastrian bowmen there 
Were much distinguished, Stafiky led them on. 
With these the Cheshire men from Mersey's banks, 
And sedgy Weever to the rapid Dee. 
&c. &c. 




A Bowmeeting Song. 



Sung at the Meeting of Cheshire Archers at Arley Hall, 1851 



HE tent is pitched, the target reared, the ground is 
measured out, 
For the weak arm sixty paces, and one hundred for 
the stout ; 

Come gather ye together then, the youthful and the fair, 
And poet's lay to distant day the victor shall declare. 




Let busy fingers lay aside the needle and the thread. 
To prick the golden canvas with a pointed arrow head ; 
Ye sportsmen quit the stubble, ye fishermen the stream, 
Fame and glory stand before you, brilliant eyes around you 
beam. 



III. 



All honour to the long bow, which many a battle won 
Ere powder blazed or bullet flew from arquebus or gun ; 
All honour to the long bow, which merry men of yore 
With hound and horn at early morn in greenwood forest bore. 



A Bowmeeting Song. 173 



Oh famous is the archer's sport, 't was honoured long ago ; 
The God of Love, the God of Wit, bore both of them a bow ; 
Love laughs to-day in beauty's eye and blushes in her cheek, 
And wit is heard in every word that merry archers speak. 



The archer's heart, though like his bow a tough and sturdy thing, 
Is pliant still and yielding when affection pulls the string ; 
All his words and all his actions are like arrows pointed well 
To hit that golden centre where true love and friendship dwell. 

VI. 

They tell us in that outline which the lips of beauty show 
How CiLpid found a model for his heart-subduing bow. 
The arrows in his quiver are the glances from her eye, 
A feather from Love's wing it is that makes the arroAv fly. 



Belfry Rhymes. 



St. John's Church, Chester. Date 1627. 




OU ringers all observe these orders well, 
he forfits 1 2 pence who turns ore a bell ; 
& he y* ringes with either spurr or hatt 
his 6 pence certainely shall pay for y*, 

& he that spoile or doth disturbe a peale 

shall pay his 4 pence or a cann of ale, 

and he that is harde to curse or sweare 

shall pay his 12 pence, and forbeare. 

These customes elsewhere now are used 

lest bells and ringers be abused. 

you gallants then y* on purpose come to ring 

see that you coyne alonge with you dothe bringe ; 

and further also, if y* you ring here, 

you must ring truly with hande and eare, 

or else your forfits surely pay 

full speedily, and that without delay ; 

our laws are old, yy are not new. 

The sextone looketh for his due. 



Anagram on Randle Holmes. 
Lo Men's Herald. 




NIXON, THE CHESHIRE PROPHET, 



Nixon^ the Palatine Prophet. 



' Thou Palatine Prophet, whose fame I revere, 
Woe be to that bard who speaks ill of a seer.' 

So sings Warburton. In a book professing to be a collection of the legends and old lore 
of Cheshire we could not omit all mention of Nixon, yet what are we to say of our county 
Nostradamus? One account affirms that he was bom in the time of Edward IV., about 
1467. One of the prophecies, or rather an act of second sight (as they call it in the 
Highlands) attributed to him, was (whilst ploughing in Cheshire) speaking of the battle 
of Bosworth, and the result of the battle, which was being fought at that very time in 
Leicestershire (August 22, 1485, a curious time for ploughing). Miss Wilbraham utilises 
the idea of his having been born in the reign of Edward IV. in ' For and Against,' her 
accurate tale of the fifteenth century. It is, however, a curious thing that the first printed 
account of Nixon is that of ' Oldmixon,' published in 1714, which opens thus : — 

' In the reign of James I. thei'e lived a fool whose name was Nixon.' 

Here is at once a discrepancy of some 150 years in the date of the two accounts of his 
birth. The more the accounts of Nixon have been ventilated by our Cheshire historians, 
the more problematical and irreconcilable they are. He is said to have been born at 
Over, and though his reputed residence (Bridge-end House) is pointed out, no mention is 
made of him in the registers of Over or Whitegate ; and the very existence of the house 
in which he was born would at any rate disprove his birth in 1467. He is said to have 
been starved to death at Hampton Court by the negligence of the servants, who had 
(during the temporary absence of the Court) shut him up for some peccadillo, and forgotten 
him. A closet at that palace, pointed out now as the scene of his death, was built in the 
reign of William III., and the whole palace was built subsequently to the reign of Henry 
VII., during which period, according to some accounts, Nixon died. The particulars 
relating to the Cholmondeley family of Vale Royal, mentioned in the printed accounts of 
Nixon's life, do not tally with the known history of that family. No author I iinderstand 
who might have been contemporary with Nixon in either the reigns of Edward IV. or 
James I. mentions him, and the first printed account of him, as I said before, did not ap- 
pear till ninety years after the death of James I. In the ' Iter Lancastriense,' written by 
Richard James in 1636, is a trace, and a doubtful trace, of one of the prophecies attributed 
to Nixon, in one of the later published accounts of his life '.— 

' Whose safetye gave occasion to ould laws 
Thus riming — " When all England is alofte, 
Then happie they whose dwellings in God's crofte." 
And wiiere thinke you this crofte of Christe should be 
But midst Ribchcster's Ribble and the Dee.' 



176 Nixon^ the Palatine Prophet. 



In Nixon's life we have the following. One asked Nixon 'Where he might be safe in 
those days?' — he answered, 

' In God's croft, betwixt the rivers Mersey and Dee.' 

But other counties seem also to have their preordained sanctuary. In Yorkshire we 
find the following version :— 

' When all the world shall be aloft 
Then Hallamshire shall be God's croft.' 

Many ingenious completions of Nixon's prophecies have been given to the world, but it 
is wonderful how we find a clever person work out the accomplishment of a prophecy he 
is predetermined to prove. 
Amongst Nixon's prophecies is the following : 

' Then rise up Richard, son of Richard, 
And bless the happy reign,' &c. &c. 

No Richard came, so it was changed to George, the son of George. 

One of the ingenious readings of prophecy (not one of Nixon's) is the following. There 
was an old saying, whence originating is not very clear, 

When Hempe is spun 
Efigland^s done. 

The initials of Henry VIII. 

Edward VI. 

Mary 
and 

Philip, 

Elizabeth, 
spell Hempe. At Elizabeth's death ' England was done,' l^eing united to Scotland by 
Elizabeth's successor, James I., and becoming Great Britain. 

The conclusion I should come to with respect to our ' Palatine Prophet ' is this. That 
a man called Nixon (which was probably a soubriquet and not the original name, which will 
account for not finding the name in the registers) existed at Over. He was probably called 
by the ignorant peasants (with whom omne igiwtum \spro mag7iifico) Nick's son, or the 
son of the Devil, from the supernatural knowledge they attributed to him, and which the 
vulgar of all ages are more apt to consider as originating in Hell than in Heaven. When 
Nixon lived is a myth. He was probably a half-witted clown, or not ' all there,' as we say in 
Cheshire, but gifted with considerable shrewdness and cunning (not incompatible with a 
partially diseased brain); and that, like the pretenders to second sight in Scotland, he may 
have occasionally made some happy guesses, and may have become acquainted with facts 
and realities during the rambling life so frequently preferred by those who are not quite 
right in their upper stories, the retailing of which among the stay-at-home rustics of his 
own neighbourhood invested everything he said with a sort of mystic authority and credit. 
During his time, and since he has passed away, the prophetical allusions and dark sayings 
of the county, however and from whomsoever originating, have been attributed to Nixon ; 
just as in Sheridan's time all the sharp sayings of the period were fathered on him. The 
first editions of ' Nixon's Life ' contain very few prophecies in comparison with the later 
editions. The following is from an old edition, where we find more than double the 
prophecies of the original (1714 a.d. ) edition : — 



The Original Predictions of Robert 
Nixon. 

HEN a Raven shall build in a stone Lion's mouth, 
On a church top beside the grey forest, 
Then shall a King of England be drove from his 
crown, 
And return no more. 




When an Eagle shall sit on the top of Vale Royal House, 
Then shall an heir be born who shall live to see great troubles 
in England. 



There shall be a Miller named Peter, 

With two heels on one foot. 
Who shall distinguish himself bravely, 

And shall be knighted by the victor ; 
For foreign nations shall invade Efigla?id, 

But the invader shall be killed, 
And laid across a horse's back. 

And led in triumph. 



178 The Original Predictions of 



A Boy shall be born with three thumbs on one hand, 

Who shall hold three Kings' horses, 
Whilst England three times is won and lost in one day. 

But after this shall be happy days, 

A new set of people of virtuous manners 
Shall live in peace. 
But the wall of Vak Royal near the pond shall be the token of 

its truth. 
For it shall fall. 

If it fall downwards, ^ 

Then shall the church be sunk for ever ; 
But if it fall upwards against a hill. 
Then shall the church and honest men live still. 
Under this wall shall be found the bones of a British King ; 
Peckforton Mill shall be removed to Luddington Hilly 
And three days' blood shall turn Noginshire Mill. 

But beware of a chance to the Lord of Oulton^ 
Lest he should be hanged at his own door. 

A Crow shall sit on the top of Headless Cross 

In the forest so grey, 
And drink of the nobles' gentle blood so free. 
Twenty thousand horses shall want masters 
Till their girths rot under their bellies. 

Through our own money and our own men 
Shall a dreadful war begin. 
Between the sickle and the suck 
All England shall have a pluck, 
And be several times forsworn, 



Robert Nixon. 179 



And put to their wits' end, 

That it shall not be known 

Whether to reap their corn, 

Bury their dead, 

Or go to the field to fight, 

A great scarcity of bread corn. 

Foreign nations shall invade England^iih. snow on their helmets, 
And shall bring plague, famine, and murder in the skirts of their 
garments. 

A great tax shall be granted but never gathered. 

Between a rick and two trees 

A famous battle fought shall be. 

London Street shall run with blood. 

And at last shall sink. 

So that it shall be fulfilled, 

Lincoln was, London is, and York shall be 

The finest city of the three. 

There will be three gates in London^ of imprisoned men for 

cowsters ; 
Then if you have three cows, at the first gate sell one and keep 

thee at home. 
At the second gate sell the other two, and keep thee at home. 
At the last gate all shall be done 
When summer in winter shall come. 
And peace is made at every man's home. 
Then shall be danger of war, 
For though with peace at night shall nations ring, 
Men shall rise to war in the morning. 



i8o The Original Predictions of 



There will be a winter council, a careful Christmas, and 

bloody Lent. 
In those days there shall be hatred and bloodshed : 
The father against the son, the son against the father, 
That one may have a house for lifting the latch of the door. 
Landlords shall stand with hat in their hands 
To desire their tenants to hold their lands. 

V 

Great wars and pressing of soldiers, 

But at last clubs and clouted shoes shall carry the day. 



It will be good in those days for a man to sell his goods and 
keep close at home. 

Then forty pounds in hand 
Will be better than forty pounds a year in land. 
The Cock of the North will be made to flee, 
And his feathers be plucked for his pride. 
That he shall almost curse the day he was born. 

One asked Nixon where he might be safe in those days ? 
He answered 
In God'^ croft between the rivers Mersey and Dee. 

Scotland shall stand more or less 

Till it has brought England to a piteous case. 

The Scots shall rule England one whole year. 

Three years of great wars. 

And in all countries great uproars : 

The first is terrible, the second worse, but the third unbearable ! 



Robert Nixon. i8i 



Three great Battles : 

One at Northumberland Br. 
One at Cumberland Bridge^ 
And the other the South side of the Trent. 

Crows shall drink the blood of many nobles, 

East shall rise against West, and North against South. 

Then take this for good : 
Noginshire jNIill shall run with blood, 
And many shall fly down Wanslow Lane. 

A man shall come into England, 

But the Son of a King crowned with Thorns 

Shall take from him the Victory. 

Many Nobles shall fight, 

But a Bastard Duke shall win the day ; 

And so without delay 

Set England in a right way. 
A Wolf from the East shall right eagerly come 
On the South side of Sandford on a grey Monday morning, 

Where groves shall grow upon a green. 

Beside green, grey, they shall flee 
Into rocks, and many die. 

They shall flee into Salt Strand, 

And twenty thousand without sword shall die each man. 

The dark Dragon over Sudsbrown 
Shall bring with him a royal Band, 
But their lives shall be forlorn ; 

His head shall be in Stafford town, 
His tail in Ireland. 



1 82 The Original Predictions of 



He boldly shall bring his men, thinking to win renown, 
Beside a wall in forest fair he shall be beaten down. 

On Hi7ies Heath they shall begin the bloody fight, 

And with trained steed shall hew each other's helmet bright ; 

But who shall win that day no one can tell. 

A Duke out of Dejimark shall him dight 

On a day in England^ and make many a Lord full low to light, 

And the Ladies cry well away ! 

And the black fleet with main and might 

Their enemies full boldly there assail. 

In Britaifi'?> land shall be a Knight 

On them shall make a cruel fight ; 

A bitter Boar with main and might 

Shall bring a royal rout that day. 

There shall die many a worthy knight, 

And be driven into the fields green and grey ; 

They shall lose both field and fight. 

The weary Eagle shall to an island in the sea retire. 

Where leaves and herbs grow fresh and green. 

There shall he meet a ladye fair. 

Who shall say, ' Go help thy friend in battle slain : ' 

Then by the counsel of that fair 

He eagerly will make to flee 

Twenty-six standard of the enemy. 

A rampant Lion in silver set in armour fair 

Shall help the eagle in that tide. 

When many a knight shall die. 



Robert Nixon. 



The Bear that hath been long tied to a stake shall shake his 

chains, 
That every man shall hear, and shall cause much debate. 
The Bull and the Red Rose shall stand in strife, 
That shall turn England to much woe, 
And cause many a man to lose his life. 

In a forest stand oaks three. 

Beside a headless cross ; 
A well of blood shall run and ree, 

Its cover shall be Brass, 
Which shall never appear 

Till Horses' feet have trod it bare. 

Who wins it will declare 

The eagle shall so fight that day, 

That ne'er a friend 's from him away. 
A Hound without delay shall run the chace far and near. 

The dark Dragon shall die in fight, 
A lofty head the Bear shall rear. 

The wide Wolf so shall light 
The bridled steed against his enemies will fiercely fight. 

A fleet shall come out of the North, 

Riding on a horse of trees ; 
A white hind beareth he, 

And the wreaths so free. 

That day the Eagle shall him slay. 

And in a hill set his banner straightway. 
That Lion who 's forsaken been and forced to flee. 

Shall hear a woman shrilly say, 
* Thy friends are killed on yonder hill, 

Death to many a knight this day.' 



1 84 The Original Predictions of 

With that the Lion bears his banner to a hill 

Within a forest that 's so plain, 

Beside a headless cross of stone. 
There shall the Eagle die that day, 

And the red Lion get renown. 

A great Battle shall be fought by crowned Kings three : 
One shall die, and a Bastard Duke shall win the day. 
In Sandyford there lies a stone 
A crowned King shall lose his head on. 

In those Avretched days five wicked priests' heads shall be sold 

for a penny. 
Slaughter shall rage to such a degree. 

And infants left by those who are slain, 
That damsels shall with fear and glee 

Cry, ' Mother ! Mother, here 's a man ! ' 

Between seven, eight, and nine 

In Efigland wonders shaU be seen ; 

Between nine and thirteen all sorrow shall be done. 

Then rise up, Richard son of Richard^ 

And bless the happy reign ; 
Thrice happy he who sees this time to come. 

When England shall know rest and peace again. 



Nixon is also said to have predicted that Northwich should be destroyed by water. 



Robert Nixon. 185 



The following is said to have been his prophecy relating to the Reformation :- 

A time shall come when Priests and Monks 

Shall have no churches nor houses, 

And places where images stood 

Lined letters shall be good ; 

English books through churches are spread, 

There shall be no holy bread. 

I will only add two more of his prophecies : — 

When you the Harrow come on high, 
Soon a Raven's nest shall be. 

Through Weaver Hall shall be a lone {i.e. lane), 
Ridley Pool shall be sown and mown, 
And Darnel Park shall be hacked and hewn. 



Among the lower orders in Cheshire there is a strong belief and faith in Nixon, and 
there is no story about him too wild to be believed. A man told me that Lord Delamere 
had cut down and sold to a carpenter the oak under which Nixon used to prophesy ; that 
the carpenter had made a table of part of it ; and that the vein of the wood repeated over 
its whole surface likenesses of Nixon ; and that Lord Delamere bought the table, which is 
now at Vale Royal. The only thing that spoils the interest of this tale is that it is simply 
false in every particular and never did occur. 



Le Gros-Veneur. 



Sung at the Tarporley Hunt Meeting, November 




MIGHTY great Hunter in deed and in name, 
To our Shire long ago with the Conqueror came ; 
A hunting he went with his bugle and bow, 
And he shouted in Normandy- French '■ Tallyho.' 
Chorus. 
The man we now place at the head of our chase 
Can his pedigree trace from the Gros-Veneur ! 



'T is a maxim by fox-hunters well understood, 
That in horses and hounds there is nothing like blood; 
So the chief who the fame of our kennel maintains 
Should likewise be born with good blood in his veins. 
Chorus. 
The man we now place at the head of our chase 
Can his pedigree trace from the Gros-Veneur ! 



Le Gros-Veneur, ^^1 



III. 

Old and young with delight shall the Gros-Veneur greet, 
The field once again in good fellowship meet ; 
The Shire with one voice shall re-echo our choice, 
And again the old pastime all Cheshire rejoice. 
Chorus. 
May the sport we ensure many seasons endure. 
And the Chief of our chase be the Gros-Veneur. 



IV. 

Though no more, as of yore, a long bow at his back, 
Now a Gros-Veneur guides us and governs our pack ; 
Again let each earth-stopper rise from his bed. 
This year they shall be all well fee'd and well fed. 
Chorus. 
May the sport we ensure many seasons endure, 
And the Chief of our chase be the Gros-Veneur. 



Let Geoffrey with smiles and with shillings restore 
Good humour, when housewives their poultry deplore, 
Well pleased for each goose on which Reynard had preyed 
To find in their pockets a golden egg laid. 

Cho7nis. 
May the sport we ensure many seasons endure, 
And the Chief of our chase be the Gros-Veneur. 



1 88 Le Gros-Veneur. 



VI. 

Should our Chief with the toil of the Senate grow pale, 

The elixir of life is a ride o'er the Vale ; 

There of health, says the Song, he shall gain a new stock, 

Till the pulse beats the seconds as true as a clock. 
Chorus. 
May the sport we ensure many seasons endure. 
And the Chief of our chase be the Gros-Veneur. 

VII. 

I defy Normandy now to send a Chasseur 

Who can ride alongside of our Gros-Veneur ; 

And couching my lance, I will challenge all France 

To outvie the bright eye of Lady Constance. 
Chorus. 
Long, long, may she grace with her presence our chase, 
The Bride and the Pride of the Gros-Veneur. 



The Battle of Blore Heath. 



September 23, 1458. 




HE 'Battle oi Blore Heath' the place doth next supply, 
Betwixt Richard Nevil that great Earl of Salisbury, 
Who, with the Duke of York, had at St. Albans late 
That glorious battle got with uncontrolled fate. 
And. James Lord Audley stirred by that revengeful Queen 
To stop him on his way, for his inveterate spleen 
She bare him, for that still he with the Yorkists held 
Who coming from the North (by sundry wrongs compelled 
To parley with the King), the Queen that time who lay 
In Stafordshire, and thought to stop him on his way. 
That valiant Tucket stirred, in Cheshire powerful then 
T' affront him in the field, where Cheshire gentlemen 
Divided were ; one part made valiant Tucket strong, 
The other with the Earl rose as he came along. 
Encamping both their powers divided by a brook. 
Whereby the prudent Earl this strong advantage took ; 
For putting in the field his army in aiTay, 
Then making as with speed he meant to march away, 
He caused a flight of shafts to be discharged first. 
The enemy, who thought that he had done his worst 



I90 



The Battle of Blore Heath. 



And cowardly had fled in a disordered rout, 

Attempt to wade the brook, he wheeHng (soon) about 

Let fiercely on that part which then were passed over : 

Their friends then in the rear not able to recover 

The other rising bank, to lend the vanguard aid. 

The Earl, who found the plot take right that he had laid, 

On those that forward prest, as those that did recoil. 

As hungry in Revenge there made a ravenous spoil. 

There Diitton Button kills, a Done doth kill a Done^ 

A Booth a Booths and Leigh by Leigh is overthrown ; 

A Venables against a Venables doth stand, 

A Troutheck fighteth with a Troutbeck hand to hand ; 

There Molineiix doth make a Molineux to die. 

And Egerton the strength of Egerton doth try. 

Oh Cheshire^ wert thou mad? of thine own native gore 

So much until this day thou never shed'st before ; 

Above two thousand men upon the earth were thrown. 

Of which the greatest part were naturally thy own. 



There is a legend that for several days before the battle of Blore Heath, there arose 
each moming out of the foss three mermaids, who announced the coming event by singing 
these lines as they combed their long tresses : — 

' Ere yet the hawberry assumes its deep red 
Embrued shall this heath be with blood nobly shed.' 

From the Battle of Blore Heath by Mr. Beamont. 
Chester Society Journal, part ii. p. 99. 







^^''■^^^. 




LECEND OF OVER CHUKCH. 



Legend of Over Church, 




NFOLD the reason, why, I pray, 
Doth Over church from Over to\N\\ 
Stand distant many roods away ? 



II. 



Over church in days of yore, 
So speaks traditionary lore, 

Amidward Over stood ; 



III. 



There every sabbath, and each day 
Marked out as Fast and HoUday, 

All sought for heavenly food. 



IV. 



In vain the Devil spread his net, 
The church protecting, ever let 



His schemes against men's souls. 



192 Legend of Over Church, 



V. 

Long he revolved in his black heart, 
And plotted each infernal art, 

Defrauded of his tolls. 

VI. 

At length he rushed the church to seize. 
Nor less his devilish spite might please, 
And bear it far away. 

VII. 

With claws the fane from earth he tore, 
And on his impious wings upbore, 

One morn at break of day. 

VIII. 

And as his sacrilegious flight 

He onward winged with demon might. 

Screamed a triumphant yell. 



IX. 

He dreamt not he was heard and spied 
By monks he had so oft defied. 

Since first from heaven he fell. 



X. 

At once in holy chorus swell 
Their earnest prayers (of sin the knell). 
To stay the robber's flight. 



Legend of Over Church. 193 



XL 

Anathemas from earth arise, 

And maranathas pierce the skies 

To scare the foul fiend from his prize. 

May God defend the right ! 

XII. 

Still, undismayed, he onward flew ; 
Though heavier still his burden gi'ew, 
He held on like despair. 

XIIL 

What sound is that now moves fresh fears 1 
The Devil trembles as he hears 

Bells rolling through the air. 

XIV. 

Hark ! from some distant tower unseen, 
( Vale RoyaV's, abbey church, I ween) 

A crashing peal rings forth. 

XV. 

Well know we evil spirits fear 

The sound of bells, so strong, so clear ; 

Such holy notes they dread. 

XVI. 

And oft, 'tis said, the passing bell 
Scares far away the imps of Hell 

From dying Christian's bed. 
o 



194 Legend of Over Church. 



XVII. 

As Satan struggled on in pain, 

His boasted strength begins to wane, 

Though eke by malice fed. 

XVIII 

Stunned by monks' prayers and pealing noise, 
In vain he strives the weight to poise : 
Swift from his grasp it fell. 

XIX. 

He spurned the church as down it flew, 
But a dark mist its mantle threw 

For safety round the pile. 

XX. 

Screeching vv^ith hate, mad with despair. 
The fiend escaped through murky air. 
All baffled was his wile. 



XXI. 

The church through space descending rushed 
By its own weight it must be crushed 

^ Whene'er it earth may gain. 

XXII. 

Prostrate the monks and abbot kneel : 
In Heaven alone aught hope they feel. 
For mortal help is vain. 



Legend of Ove?^ Church. 195 



XXIII. 

They raised to great St. C/iad a prayer 
From bale the topphng church to spare, 
And save the perilled fane. 

XXIV. 

See ! as they pray, the mass floats down, 
Light as the breeze borne thistle-down, 
Soft as on fleece the snow. 



XXV. 

Preserved it stood — there still it stands — 
Rescued from sacrilegious hands, 

Escaped the foul fiend's blow. 

XXVI. 

Beyond ' Toiun Fields ' in valley low. 
Where worshippers from Over go. 

And humbly offer prayers. 

XXVII. 

One measured mile from the old site 
Where first from air it did alight, 

The church still Sataji scares. 

XXVIII. 

This is the reason why they say 
That Ove?- church from Over town 
Stands distant many roods away, 
o 2 



196 Legend of Over Church. 



The Rev. C. Jackson, curate of Over, tells me that a former rector of Over (the Rev. 
J. Crane), when Roger Young was his curate, and Isaac Woolf was his clerk, wrote the 
following lines on Over church : — 

In a pleasant low vale Over church you remark 

As through Swanlow you journey along, 
Where a Crane is the vicar, a Woolf is the clerk, 

And the curate will always be Young. 

There is a legend in Ireland that a fissure in a range of hills near Tipperary was caused 
by the Devil (enraged at St. Patrick meeting him as he was carrying some souls off to 
hell, and obliging him to drop them like a hot potato) gnawing an immense mass out of 
the mountain-side, causing the hole now called ' The Devil's Bit,' and flying away with 
it. Finding, however, he was hotly pursued by St. Patrick, he spat it out where the 
Rock of Cashel now stands ; and on this rock, to purify it after the defilement of the arch 
fiend's mouth, the beautiful Cathedral of Cashel (now an interesting ruin) was built. 

Archdeacon Wood thinks that the strange out-of-the-way position of Over church may 
be accounted for by the supposition that it was erected there for the convenience of the 
Earl of Chester, who occasionally resided on his Manor of Darnhall. 

Verse 16. ' And oft, 'tis said, the passing bell,' &c. — In an old English homily we find — 
'At the death of a manne, three belles shulde be ronge as his knigll, in worscheppe of the 
Trinetee ; and for a womanne, who was the secunde persone of the Trinetee, two belles 
shulde be rungen.' In addition to the intention of the ' passing bell ' afforded by Durandus 
as above, it has been thought that it was rung to drive away the evil spirits, supposed to 
stand at the foot of the bed ready to seize the soul that it might 'gain start' Wynkyn 
de Worde, in his ' Golden Legend,' speaks of the dislike of spirits to bells. 

Verse 23. 'They raise to great St. Chad a prayer.' — Over church is dedicated to 
St. Chad. 

Lord Delamere has recently built a beautiful new church in the middle of Over, to the 
very great convenience of the inhabitants, in memory of the late Lady Delamere. 




Prophecy relating to Beeston Castle. 

[Lelande, or Laylande, an eminent English antiquary, in his poem on the birth of 
Edward VI. speaks of this castle as a ruin, when he makes Fame alight on its summit 
and foretell its restoration.] 




XPLICUIT dehinc Fama suas pemiciter alas, 
Altaque fiilminei "petiit /ovis atria victrix, 
Circuiens liquid! spatiosa volumina coeli. 

Turn quoqu e despexit terrain sublimis, ocellos 
Sidereos figens Bisduni in moenia castri, &c. &c. 



Thus referred to by Bishop Gibson in his edition of Camden : — 

Randal returning from the Syrian land, 
This castle raised his country to defend. 
The borderer to fight and to command. 
Though ruined here the stately fabric lies, 
Yet with new glories it again shall rise, 
If I a prophet may believe old prophecies. 



The following is a translation of the same prophecy, with the signature R.W.,from 
Peimant's Journey from Chester to London : — 

Thence to Jove's palace she prepared to fly, 
With outstretched pinions, through the yielding sky ; 
Wide o'er the circuit of the ample space. 
Surveyed the subject, earth, and human race. 



198 Prophecy relating to Beeston Castle, 



Sublime in air, she cast her radiant eyes 

Where far-famed BeestoiH^ airy turrets rise : 

High on a rock it stood, whence all around 

Each fruitful valley and each rising ground 

In beauteous prospect lay : these scenes to view, 

Descending swift, the wondering goddess flew. 

Perched on the topmost pinnacle she shook 

Her sounding plumes, and thus in rapture spoke : — 

' From Syrian climes the conquering Randoph came, 
Whose well-fought fields bear record of his name ; 
To guard his country and to check his foes, 
By Randolph!?, hands this glorious fabric rose. 
Though now in ruined heaps thy bulwarks lie, 
Revolving time shall raise those bulwarks high ; 
If faith to ancient prophecies be due, 
Then Edward shall thy pristine state renew. 



There has long been a traditionary belief amongst the peasantry in that neighbourhood 
that the ancient Castle of Beeston will some day be restored to its pristine glories. The 
prophecy may be considered as partially realised by the building of Peckforton Castle on 
a neighbouring height, by John Tollemache, M.P. , the owner of Beeston. 



The Legend of Bebington Spire, 




VY ! thou art fresh and young, 
Gleaming in the morning sun : 
In thee change is never seen, 
Through the year an evergreen. 



AVhen at banquet held on high, 
The maid Kissos merrily 
Danced, and Bacchus oft embraced, 
As midst gods she wanton raced. 



III. 



Whilst she frolicked up and down, 
Down she sank upon the ground ; 
Exhausted, closed her eyes in death, 
Panting fled her fluttering breath. 



IV. 



Ivy sprang up round the maid. 
By the Greeks hence named ('tis said) 
Kissos^ which the oak entwines, 
As Kissos once, the god of wines. 



200 The Legend of Bebington Spire, 



V. 

Ivy, though so bright and green, 

Oft near death is met, I ween ; 

Midst th' old castle's ruins creeps. 

From winding-sheet of snow-wreath peeps. 

VI. 

Throws its tendrils round the oak, 
Which its fond embraces choke ; 
Like the snake-encircling coils, 
Whelming hapless prey in toils. 

VII. 

Ivy twined with gloomy yew, 
Too oft meets the mourner's view ; 
Slowly following the dead 
To their last cold churchyard bed. 

VIII. 

Hast thou heard what hast been said 
By seer Nixon, prophet dread ? 
Of BebingtorH high-soaring spire 
Thus he spoke in words of fire. 

nixon's prophecy. 

IX. 

' When that spire's vane shall clasp 
Ivy with its fatal grasp. 
Then the last stern trumpet's call 
Live and dead shall summons all. 



The Legend of Bebington Spire. 201 



X. 

' Then shall hap the crash of doom ; 
Then the dead shall burst the tomb ; 
Together crushed the world shall roll, 
Like a parched, flame-shrivelled scroll ! 

XI. 

Many years since then have passed, 
Still the world and spire last ; 
Nor yet th' ivy's fatal grasp 
Dares the fatal point to clasp. 

XII. 

Once it almost reached the height, 
Filling Cheshire with affright ; 
When the lightning's scorching blast. 
Through the threatening ivy past. 

XIII. 

Twice since then in utmost need, 
Chance hath baulked the ivy's greed ; 
Still the tendrils seek the sky. 
Struggling towards the spire on high. 

MORAL. 
XIV. 

May our hearts to heaven rise, 
Then we ne'er shall fear surprise ; 
E'en should th' ivy top the spire, 
And the doomed world wrap in fire. 



202 The Legend of Bebington Spire. 



Nixon Is said to have prophesied that when ivy topped the Bebington spire, the end of 
the world would be at hand. 

The iuie greene that dothe dispised growe, 
And none doth plante, or trimme the same at all, 
Althoughe a while it spreades it selfe belowe, 
In time it mountes, with creepinge vp the wall. 

So, thoughe the worlde the vertuous men dispisc, 

Yet vp alofte in spite of them they rise. 

From Geoffrey Whitney's Emblenti. 




Ballad of Lord Delamere, 




OOD people, give attention, a story you shall hear, 
It is of the king and my lord Delamere \ 
The quarrel it arose in the Parliament House, 
Concerning some taxations going to be put in 
Ri toora loora la. [force. 

Says my lord Delamere to his majesty soon, 
' If it please you, my liege, of you I'll beg a boon.' 
' Then what is your boon % let me it understand.' 
' 'Tis to have all the poor men you have in your land ; 
And I'll take them to Cheshire, and there I will sow 
Both hempseed and flaxseed, and them all in a row. 
Why, they'd better be hanged and stopped soon their breath, 
If it please you, my liege, than to starve them to death.' 



Then up starts a French lord, as we do hear, 

Saying, ' Thou art a proud y<7^/^,' to my lord Delamere) 

' Thou oughtest to be stabbed ' — then he turned him about- 

'For affronting the king in the ParHament House.' 

Then up starts His Grace the Duke of Devonshire, 

Saying, ' I'll fight in defence of my lord Delamere' 



204 Ballad of Lord Delamere. 



Then a stage was erected ; to battle they went : 

To kill or to be killed was our noble duke's intent. 

The very first push, as we do understand, 

The duke's sword he bended it back in his hand. 

He waited awhile, but nothing he spoke, 

Till on the king's armour his rapier he broke. 

The English lord who by that stage did stand, 

Threw Devofishire another, and he caught it in his hand j 

' Play low for your life, brave Devonshh'-e ! ' said he j 

' Play low for your life, or a dead man you'll be ! ' 

Devonshire dropped on his knee, and gave him his death-wound. 

Oh ! then that French lord fell dead upon the ground. 

The king called his guards, and unto them did say, 

' Bring Devonshire down, and take the dead man away.' 

'No, if it please you, my liege — no, I've slain him like a man ; 

I'm resolved to see what clothing he has got on. 

Oh, fie upon your treachery ! your treachery ! ' said he. 

' Oh king ! 'twas your intention to take my life away ; 

For he fought in your armour, whilst I have fought in bare : 

The same thou shalt win, king, before thou doth it wear.' 

Then they all turned back to the Parliament House, 

And the nobles made obeisance with their hands in their mouths. 

God bless all the nobles we have in our land, 

And send the Church of Ejigland may flourish still and stand : 

For I've injured no king, no kingdom, and no crown, 

But I wish that every honest man may enjoy their own. 



Ballad of Lord Delamere. 205 



The origin of the quarrel was supposed to have been some corn-law debate. 

The title of Lord Delamere was conferred by Charles II. on Sir George Warrington. 

Lord Delamere is described by a contemporary versifier as 
Fit to assist to pull a tyrant down, 
But not to please a prince that mounts the throne. 

George Harry, fifth Earl of Stamford, was created in 1796 Baron De la Mere — the title 
enjoyed by his maternal grandfather ; and it is one of the two baronies still held by the 
Earl of Stamford and Warrington. 

The ballad is evidently fragmentary, and very imperfect. 




The Landlady of the Blue Posts Inn, 

Chester, 



A tale of the reign of Bloodi' Mary. 



4 W^\A ^ 



OW many fair ladies in Cheshb-e we boast ! 
How many a beauty ! how many a toast ! 
The past and present age both teem with Venuses 
Though such a simile some may think heinous is. 

But the muse above all of one would fain sing, 

'Tis not 'lady Do?ie' to your notice I'd bring. 

Though fair to a proverb that Done must have been, 

Most beauteous lady that ever was seen ! 

Nor dame Mary Chohnondeley is now in my mind, 

By James I. styled, as in annals we find, 

' Bold ladye of Cheshire I ^ so much was he struck 

By all he had heard of her Amazon pluck ; 

Asserting her rights, confounding the lawyers. 

Who tried but in vain to be her top sawyers. 

No, I speak of a mistress of humble degree, 

' Elizabeth Mottershed^ landlady she 

Of Blue Posts in Bridge Street, where now you will find 

Britfaiji, dealer in measures, not of ale and wine. 



The Landlady of the Blue Posts. 207 



His is not the cuckoo cry, ' Measures, not men ! ' 
Whoever goes there will find ' measures for men.' 

To return to my tale : 'twas in Queen Mary'?, days — 
I am sorry I cannot say aught in her praise — 
Bloody Mary ! w^ho to please her husband was fain 
(A husband, bad luck to him who came from Spain!) 
Her subjects to roast (who upon rehgion 
Might differ from her) as we should a pigeon ; 
From Spain brought her consort the Auto-da-fe, 
Which never in England was seen till that day. 
'Twas thought that the English (the unburnt part) would love 
The Roman religion ; could they but just prove 
It had cost them father, a child, or an aunt, 
Or frizzled a husband, or wife recusant : 
That heretics all would their errors forsake 
When they saw those they loved most fast chained to the stake. 
Alas ! through the length and the breadth of the land 
Stalked legalised murder, the torture, and brand ! 
Ah ! say, were those Wisemen who dreamt they might hope 
That fear would make Englishmen follow the Pope ? 
In spite of the king, queen, and that demon Bonner 
(A wretch, deaf to pity, compassion, and honour), • 
Still thousands were found who'd not crouch to the Pope^ 
But dared in the Bible to place their sole hope. 
A stake in our country we all like to own — 
We may all like a beefsteak ; but the torrid zone 
Of stake (piled with faggots), to which one is chained, 
(To please any Spaniard or king who e'er reigned). 
We Englishmen, born under temperate skies, 
Cannot relish at all ; we don't think it nice. 



2o8 The Landlady of the 



Once I heard of a grocer give up killing flies, 

For he said that at length he found, to his surprise, 

That each fly he killed lured ten to its funeral, 

And sadly he feared that they'd eat his sugar all. 

But Queen Ma7y persisted in bigoted spite, 

Swore still that for heretics fires she would light. 

And thought that thus Protestant hearts she'd aflright. 

But fast as poor martyrs in tortures expire, 

More Protestants spring up, like sparks from the fire. 

Yet though hundreds from home to the furnace she bore, 

Still savage o\6. Jezebel hungered for more ; 

Resolved e'en to Ireland to send a commission. 

Where naught should be done without Papal permission ; 

And on Dr. Cole^ who was Dean of St. FauPs, 

Her choice as her Irish commissioner falls. 

We must be exact. This commission bore date 

One thousand five hundred and eke fifty-eight. 

When Satil, ' breathing death,' to Damascus was sent. 

And on the destruction of Christians was bent. 

His commission was framed much in the same way, 

To bind men and women and drag them away. 

Dr. Cole started off on his mission of blood, 

And stopped at the Blue Posts at Chester for food. 

The ale wife was then one Betsy MoUershed^ 
And soon for the dean a refection she spread. 
The dean asked to dinner the mayor as his guest, 
Who with Cole to dine, his great pleasure expressed. 
They ate and they drank. As the feast 'gan to wane. 
The dean with his guest confidential became ; 
Dame Mottershed listening, chanced heard him say, 
' I'll tell you a secret : this case, by my fay 



Blue Posts Inn^ Chester. 209 



(As he spoke, on a small box his fist made a dash), 

* Contains what all Protestant Irish will lash.' 

These words at once roused Bessy Mottershed's fears 

(Most women but her would have burst into tears). 

She'd a brother in Dublin^ and took it most ill, 

That Cole might chance make of this brother a grill, 

As they made of George Marshy whose trial was brought on 

A few years before when they burnt him in Boughton^ 

And who, when surrounded by flames at the stake, 

Still boldly refused his o^vn creed to forsake. 

Oh ! what could she do her loved brother to save? 

What will not a woman for mercy's sake brave ? 

As Cole left the room the mayor to bid godeen, 
Quick she opened the box without being seen. 
Slipped out the commission, in which bloody Mary 
Of Protestant blood warned Cole not to be chary, 
And gave him full licence to bind, burn, or slay, 
All those who from the Pope of Rome went astray. 
As the dame from the box the commission withdrew, 
A pack of cards into it quickly she threw. 
The knave of hearts uppermost, to herself said, 
' Exchange is no robbery,' Bess Mottershed. 
For Ireland sailed Cole, having put back the box 
Safe in his portmantle — the cunning old fox ! 
Nor dreamt that away his commission was flown, 
And that by a woman his deanship was done. 
In state at the castle the council are met ; 
Cole chuckled, ' These Irish are now in my net.' 
'Produce your commission : ' Cole opened the box 
(That all his proceedings might be orthodox). 
Hollo ! where's the commission % Alas ! it was gone, 

p 



210 The Landlady of the 



The knave of hearts' red face upon them all shone. 

In vain Cole protested, ' My mission was this, 

That Protestant Irish should all in flames hiss. 

Oh ! say, my lord deputy, what shall I do ? ' 

'Return,' said Fitzwalter^ ^'tis all that's left you ; 

You 've nothing to do but to London haste back ; 

And during your absence we'll shuffle the pack.' 

You may fancy the feelings of good Dr. Cole ; 

He looked not at all like a ' merry old soul ; ' 

But first hummed and hawed, then turned pale as an ash. 

' Day carbone notanda ! I've made a sad hash ! ' 

He feared all his travelling bills they'd disallow ; 

He thought of the waves — his face looked like tallow ; 

The wind it was adverse : Cole recrossed the seas 

(No steamers then raced 'gainst the tide and the breeze, 

Like swift hunters galloping over the lea), 

When at last back in Efigla?id^ who sadder than he ? 

He found to his grief bloody Mary was dead ! 

Plans of burning all Protestants with her were fled. 

Long, long, may the Blue Posts be sung of by fame ! 

Long Chester shall boast Betty Mottershed's name, 

Who saved all the Protestant Irish from flame. 

Who can e'er forget this bold Protestant dame ! 

Forty pounds every year, be it more, be it less, 

She as pension received for her deed from Queen Bess. 



Line 6. "Tis not Lady Done,' &c.— ' As fair as Lady Done,' is an old Cheshire proverb. 
She was the wife of Sir John Done, half-bow bearer of the forest of Delamere. The 
Cheshire nurses of former days used the term of ' Lady Done ' to their little girls to 
express unsurpassable perfection, as they did the name of 'Lord Derby 'to their male 
nurslings for the same purpose. Mr. Ormerod, who possesses a series of original portraits 



Blue Posts Inn, Chester. 211 



of Lady Done, her husband, and daughters, tells me he thinks ' Lady Dene's impressive- 
ness must have arisen more from mind and manner than any vxmsuzS. personal beauty.' 

Line 9. 'Nor Dame Mary Cholmondeley,' &c. Dame Mary Cholmondeley (heiress of 
the Holfords), celebrated for her long and obstinate lawsuits in defence of her property. 

Line 39. 'And that demon Bonner,' &c. — Bonner, or Boner, said to have been the 
natural son of George Savage, rector of Davenham in Cheshire, certainly seems to have 
inherited the quality of his reputed father's name. He was made Bishop of London by 
Henry VIIL, and is known and infamous for his cruelties to the Protestants in the reign 
of bloody Mary. He was very fat, corpulent, and merciless, which made some one say 
of him, ' That he was full of guts, and empty of bowels.' 

Line 59. ' Still savage old Jezebel.' — The coins bearing Philip and Mary's impress went 
by the name of Ahab and Jezebel. One shilling of that reign has the Queen's head on one 
side, and Philip's on the other ; on another coin the busts face each other in profile on the 
same side, alluded to by Butler : 

Still amorous, fond, and willing, 
Like Philip and Mary on a shilling. 

Line 84. ' She'd a brother in Dublin,' &c. — His name was John Edmunds. 

Line 86. ' As they made of George Marsh,' &c. — George Marsh was burnt as a hereti 
at Boughton, near Chester, a.d. 1554. A rescue was attempted, after he had refused to 
accept a pardon, conditional on recantation. His ashes were collected and buried in the 
Chapel of St. Giles in the Spital Boughton. 

Line 92. 'As Cole left the room,' &c. — Dr. Henry Cole was born at Godskill in the 
Isle of Wight (in the churchyard of which town there are several old tombstones to a 
family of the name of Cole). When Edward VI. came to the throne he embraced the 
Reformation, but altering his mind, resigned his preferments. On Queen Mary's acces- 
sion he became a zealous Roman Catholic. In 1554 he was made Provost of Eton, in 
1556, Dean of St. Paul's. On Queen Elizabeth's accession he was deprived of his deanery, 
fined 500 marks, and imprisoned. He died in 1579. He is called by Strype ' a person 
more earnest than wise.' 

Line 106. ' In state at the castle,' &c.— Dublin Castle. 

Line 115. ' Return, said Fitzwalter.' — He was the Lord Deputy who is said to have 
used this expression to Dr. Cole. 

Line 119. ' He looked not at all like a merry old soul.' — An old English ballad begins 
Old King Cole was a merry old soul. 
And a merry old soul was he, &c. 

Line 121. ' Day carbone notanda ! ' &c. — The Romans called a lucky day one ' Creta 
notanda,' marked with chalk, and the reverse ' Carbone notanda,' or one marked with 
charcoal. 

The scene of this story in Chester, the Blue Posts Inn, is now a shop, and was tenanted 
by a tailor of the name of Brittain [vide line i8j when this was written (1857). It is in 
Bridge Street, not far from the Cross ; it has been modernised since the days of Bess 
Mottershed, but the room where Dean Cole's commission was exchanged for a pack of 
cards is still shown. It has an old-fashioned ceiling. 

' Ah ! say, were they wisemen.' — When this was written Cardinal Wiseman was alive. 



P 2 



Old May Song. 




E'RE come for to bring good news in the spring, 
Good news if you wish for to hear ; 
Kind heaven can tell how all things go well : 
We're in hopes of a plentiful year. 



II. 



The cold frost and snoAv, you very well know, 

Hath pinched your cattle full sore ; 
Oh ! we'd have you beware in the spring of the year, 

And provide for cold winter once more. 



III. 



The lark he doth rise higher up to the skies, 

Until he doth quite disappear ; 
Then he hovers his wings, and delightfully sings. 

Most pleasant and charming to hear. 



IV. 



Here's the httle primrose ; how sweetly it grows 

On ev'ry green bank of the field ! 
And the hly so fair, to which none can compare, 

To the little primrose it must yield. 



old May Song, 



V. 

The mountains, you know, have been covered with snow, 

But now they're so fresh and so gay ; 
Take a leaf from the tree, and you plainly will see 

Where lies the true spirit of May. 



VI. 

Your lands shall be tilled, and your barns shall be filled ; 

Our Lord God so dearly provides ; 
The meadows are spread with a mantle of green, 

And bordered with flowers besides. 



VII. 

Your maids with your flocks rise up in your smocks, 

And hasten your true love away, 
Else your mistress awake, and you in your bed take, 

Whilst we are a-gathering our May. 



VIII, 

Our May we can gather in summer's fine weather, 

Give every one tAvo and above ; 
The more you do give, the more you will have, 

And God wiU you certainly love. 



IX. 

You young men and boys, it is high time to rise, 
For mornings grow warm in the spring ; 

Takethehorse and the hound, and search the wood round. 
Make the rocks and the valleys to ring. 



214 



Old May Song, 



The time draweth near that we must be gone, 
For we have but a short time to stay, 

To dance and to sing, and to welcome the spring, 
And to welcome the sweet month of May. 



tej jf ^ ^^g 



OLD MAY SONG. 



tzzt 



W=^ 



I 



r=W=f:- 



^=^ 



^-m 



^; 






t=|: 



:^=q==U: 



3^^ 



I^LZ^Z^ZI^ 




Bluecap\ Grave. 




L UE CAP'S remains, his dust and Bone, 

Lie midst that meadow, green and Lone ; 

Untired in speed he won his Urn, 

E'en harder than most heroes Earn. 

Cheshire will never fox-hound Call 

Amongst her pack, that's better. All 

Perfection, write on Bhiecafs Pall. 



Bluecap's grave is on a meadow near Sandiway Head. He won the celebrated match 
for 500 guineas. For particulars, vide Daniel's ' Rural Sports,' vol. i. p. 211. 




Inscription on a Mirror. 

[Presented by R. E. Warburton to the Ladies' Cloak Room at Knutsford Ball Room. 
Jan. 14, 1857.] 




AIR dancers ! since the privilege is mine, 
A gift to place in that forbidden shrine, 
Take with the gift the giver's caution too, 
Gaze on yourself as we shall gaze on you. 
While on your neck the circling jewels lie, 
Dimmed by the smile that sparkles in your eye, 
While the fresh bouquet, in your fingers held, 
Sees its own roses by your lips excelled ; 
E'er with rash step ye mingle in the dance, 
Fix on that mirror your observant glance. 
May future ages see reflected there. 
Forms half as graceful, features half as fair ! 
Let the prest glove cling closely to the hand ; 
Snap the gold clasp, the ivory fan expand ; 
Smooth the full skirt, adjust the pliant shoe ; 
Each point, each fold, fastidiously review. 
So shall no rent the BrusseV^ lace impair. 
Though jealous pangs the inward bosom tear ; 
So shall the gown, through gallops and quadrille, 
Though hearts be crushed, remain unruffled still. 
Go ! partners wait, impatient for the ball. 
Go ! smiling go ! and bhss attend you all 






The Marler\ Song, 




E are the boys to fey a pit, 

And then yoe good marl out of it 
For them who'd grow a good turmit. 
Chorus. 
Who-whoop, Wo-whoop, wo — o — o — o — o 

(Three times repeated). 



If marler should to shirk work oss, 
We hold him a tit's back across j 
The lazy chap we mun well poss. 

Chorus^ Who-whoop &c. 



III. 



When some one comes from the great ha' 
Who never marling saw before, 
He'll listen to the marlers' ca'. 

Chorus^ Who-whoop &c. 



2i8 The Marler\ Song. 



IV. 

Our lord from him will lorgesse take ; 
To him our thanks he'll reetly make, 
Whilst we shout till our sides do ache. 

Chorus^ Who-whoop &c. 

V. 

Quoth he, ' Part of five thousand pounds 
A gent hath geen us; one half-crown 
True marlers we to shout are bound. 

Chorus^ Who-whoop &c. 

VI. 

At the week's end we all will meet, 
Where we know that the liquor's reet, 
And there we'll drink into the neet. 

Chorus^ Who-whoop &c. 



VII. 

When from the public we turn out 
In ring, the gang begins, no doubt, 
The lorgesse nomines to shout. 

Chorus^ Who-whoop &c. 



VIII. 

But we must of one thing take heed, 
Lest slip should chance at the marl head, 
And we then all be crushed stark dead. 
Chorus^ Who-whoop &c. 



The Marler\ Song. 219 



IX. 

When shut the pit, the labour o'er, 
He whom we work for opes his door. 
And gees to us of drink galore, 
For this was always Marler''s> law. 
Chorus^ WTio-whoop, Who-whoop, wo — o — o — o — o 

(Three times repeated). 



An old saying in Cheshire is, ' He who marls sand may buy the land.' In all old leases 
Cheshire tenants were bound annually to marl part of their farm. The first process in 
marling is to fey the pit, i.e. to remove the surface to get at the marl which is imder it. 

To yoe, spelt as pronounced, evidently a provincialism for to hew or cut out with the 
spade. Pit, marl-pit. T-iir7nit, turnip. To oss is to offer to do. 

To poss \s the. punishment used by marlers to any lazy marler or teamsman. He is 
pulled down upon a horse's back, spread out, and beaten with the flat of the marlers' spades, 
where it will injure him least. Ha', hall. The lord of the pit, the head marler of the 
gang, who, amongst other things, receives any lorgesse, and accounts for it. Lorgesse 
(evidently a corrupted synonym of largesse), the present made to marlers. 

Stanza 5. ' Part of 5000/. ' &c. — The lord of the pit always announces to his fellows any 
sum given as lorgesse of 2j. dd. and upwards as ' part of 5000/. ' under ■zs. 6d. the lorgesse 
is announced as part of 500/. Geeii, means given ; reet, right ; neet, night. Shout, the 
peculiar note used when the marlers cry out the lorgesse and the nominee, i.e. the name 
of the donor ; it is a long prolonged drawl, followed by the chorus of Who-whoop, &c. 

Stanza 7. Ring is the circle in which marlers stand before they begin to shout. Gang, 
the party that undertake a marl-pit. Marl head, the deepest part of the pit, where the 
bank occasionally slips in upon the gang. 

Stanza 9. ' When shut the pit,' &c. — Shutting a pit is finishing the contracted work. 
There are many other terms used in marling. The shoulders of the pit, i.e. the sides. A 
midfeather is a bank left between two pits. 

The old marl-pits through Cheshire are very frequently the only watering-places for the 
cattle. The useless pits during the last generation of improvement have been generally 
filled up ; but three, four, or more pits may still be seen in several of the farms, even in 
one field. I read the above lines to an old tenant, a marler of former days, as a marling 
song ; and he said, ' It's all reet, it's all reet, but I wonder au never heard that song 
before.' 



Patriotic Verses on Inn Signs at 

Middlewich. 

The date evidently the time of the menaced French invasion from Boulogne. 



HEN folks meet together dissension to sow, 
And by breeding divisions encourage the foe, 
When false motives like colours they hold to our 
view, 
'Tis a sign they might find something better to do. 




If ever the French should attempt to come here 
To eat up our beef and to drink our strong beer, 
Of both they'd fall short, but if fighting they wished, 
At each sign of Middlewich they would be dished. 



III. 



First the Lion called ' Golden ' would make them to quake. 
And the ' Talbot,' I doubt not, would give them a shake; 
At the sign of the ' Wolf,' would they venture to rap. 
They'd find, though too late, they'd run into a trap. 



Patriotic Verses on Inn Signs. 221 



IV. 

By our Bears White and Black they'd be put to the rout, 
And a threshing they'd get at the ' Wheat Sheaf,' no doubt ; 
From ' Lord Hood,' a broadside they'd meet, to their cost ; 
And at the ' Bull's Head ' they'd be savagely tost. 

V. 

At the '■ White and Red Lion,' they'd find, to their shame, 
Whether black, white, or blue, British Lions are game ; 
At the ' Bridge Foot ' they'd stop, and perhaps call for a whet ; 
And they'd get it — that is a good ducking they'd get. 

VI. 

If they call at the ' White Horse,' they'll treat them so kind, 
With a horseshoe, that more kicks than halfpence they'll find ; 
Should they venture to peep at the ' George and the Dragon/ 
They'd see, to their cost, they'd got nothing to brag on. 



VII. 

Next at the ' Seven Stars,' they'd soon show them the door ; 
At the ' Oak ' a good drubbing they'd get, and no more. 
Should these ' Sans-culottes ' dare with our ' Crown ' interpose, 
They'll prick their French fingers well under the ' Rose.' 



VIII. 

At the ' Nag's Head' with bites and cuffs they would be treated, 
At the ' Ring o' Bells ' next with an empty house greeted ; 
The sign of the ' Eagle ' would raise fresh alarms. 
And they'd run like soup maigre to escape the ' King's Arms.' 



222 



Patriotic Verses on Inn Signs. 



IX. 



May the sign of the ' King ' ever meet with respect, 
And our good constitution each Briton protect ; 
May he who first caused all the troubles of Fra7ice, 
Be high hung on a sign, on nothing to dance. 



Stanza 3. Talbot, old name for Mastiff. 





THE DRAGON OF MOSTON. 



The Dragon of Moston. 




FT have we heard of that fell fight, 
In which old England'^ patron knight, 
By chroniclers St. George who's hight 
The scaly dragon slew. 



II. 



But of that combat now I sing, 
With which all ChesJm^e once did ring ; 
A picture of the fight I'll fling, 
And of a warrior true. 



III. 



A dragon Cheshit-e troubled sore, 
Insatiate was his horrid maw ; 
Clotted with blood and poisonous gore, 
Wide wasted he the land. 



IV. 



Widows and orphans would turn pale, 
Were he but named, men's hearts would fail ; 
Warriors, ne'er known before to quail, 
Durst not before him stand. 



2 24 The Dragon of Most on. 



V. 

Moston'^ curst township rued the day 
When in its swamp it wallowing lay ; 
Like the thick dust uprose the spray, 
As thrashed his tail the slime. 



VI. 

Remnant of monsters, that the flood 
Retiring left (a deadly brood). 
Or sprung from some gaunt giant's blood, 
Spawn of some devihsh time. 

VII. 

Sharp fangs gaped wide a triple row. 
Its bloodshot eyes like flames did glow, 
Its body like a serpent low. 

And scaled o'er as with mail. 



VIII. 

Six claws on either side appear. 
Its prey to seize, its prey to tear : 
'Twas said, that e'en a grizzly bear 
Had crushed its whelming tail. 

IX. 

Where'er it roamed, its upas breath 
On all sides, round, above, beneath. 
Like plague-sores, belched a horrid death, 
'Gainst which 'twas vain to pray. 



The Dragon of Moston. 225 



X. 

This gallant Venabks did hear 
(A man he was to Cheshire dear), 
And Moston he resolved to clear, 
Or perish in the fray. 

XI. 

He vowed unto his ladye fair 
To beard the dragon in his lair, 
And offered up to heaven a prayer 
To grant him strength in fight. 

XII. 

The dragon's swamp scarce had he won, 
The beast had seized a widow's son • 
He was his mother's only one. 

Loud shouted then the knight. 



XIIL 

The morning mists that challenge cleft ; 
The dragon heard the shout, and left 
The child of sense not life bereft. 
And rushed on in his might. 



XIV. 

Bold Venables unflinching drev/ 
With steady hand the sounding yew ; 
Forth, winged by death, the arrow flew, 
And pierced the dragon's eye, 
Q 



i2(> The Dragon of Most on. 



XV. 

Well 'twas he aimed not at his side : 
The sharpest bolt had vainly tried 
To pierce elsewhere his scale-armed hide, 
Or to the heart come nigh. 

XVI. 

Fierce through the reeds the dragon crashed, 
The swamp to foam in fury lashed, 
Wildly at Vejiahles it dashed : 

The knight ne'er dreamt to fly. 



XVII. 

On the blind side advanced he then, 
And smote the beast once and again 
Between the scales : soon in the fen 

Black heart blood soaked the ground. 

XVIII. 

Far, far, that dying shriek was heard. 
E'en distant Beeston's warders stirred, 
And springing up some onslaught feared, 
So awful was the sound. 



XIX. 

Who, who, may paint the widow's joy ? 
Again, again, she hugs her boy. 
What can the mother now annoy ? 
Her lost child breathes again ! 



The Dragon of Most on. 227 



XX. 

Broad lands in Mosto7i for that deed 
(Fortune's reward, and Valour's meed), 
For Cheshire saved in utmost need. 
The Venables did gain. 

XXI. 

But what than lands he valued mair, 
Was a dark tress of glossy hair 
(For this, what would not true knight darel;, 
Gift of his ladye fair. 

XXII. 

A dying dragon bathed in gore, 
Which e'en in death an infant tore, 
In arms he proudly thenceforth bore, 
Emblazoned on his shield. 



XXIIL 

Still, children at the dragon quake \ 

The fight to list they'll play forsake ; 

Still by the name of ' Dragon! 'a lake ' 

Is called that Moston field. 





Ancient Cheshire Games. 

Circa 1600. 
Aunticnt customes in shames used l^y boys and girlcs mci'ily set out in verse. 

NY they dare challenge for to throw the sleiidge, 
To jump or leap over ditch or hedge, 
To wrastle, play at stooleball, or to riinne, 
To pick the barre, or to shoote off a gonne, 
To play at loggets, nineholes, or ten pinnes, 
To trye it out at footeballe by the shinnes, 
At ticke jacke, Irish, noddy, maw, and ruffe. 
At hott cockley, leape frogge, or blindman's buffe, 
To drinke halph pottS; or deale at the whole can, 
To play at chesse, or pen and inkhorn y^//;/. 
To daunce the morris play at barley breake. 
At all exployts a man can thinke or speake. 
At shove groate, venterpoynte, or cross and pile. 
At beshrow him that's last at any style, 
At leapinge ore a Christmas eve bonefier, 
Or at the drawinge donne out of the myer. 
At shoote cocke, gregory stooleball, and what not, 
Pickepoynt topp, and scourge to make them hott. 



Stoolehalle. An ancient game of ball played by both sexes. According to Dr. Johnson, 
it is a game where a ball is driven from stool to stool. In Lewis' ' English Presbyterian 



Ancient Cheshire Games. 229 



Eloquence,' p. 17, talking of the tenets of the Puritans, he observes that all games were 
strictly forbidden where there is any hazard of loss, not so much as a game of stoolball 
for a tansay (a sort of cake). In Herrick's ' Hesperides ' we find 

At stoolball, Lucia, let us play 

For sugar, cakes, and wine, 
Or for a tansie let us pay ; 

The losse be thine or mine. 
If thou, my deere, a winner be 

At trundling of the balle, 
The wager thou shall have, and me, 

And my misfortunes all. 

To picke the barre, means the same as pitching or flinging the bar. 

Loggets ox Loggats, an old game, forbidden by statute in Henry VIII. 's time. It is 
thus played, according to Steevens : — A stake is fixed in the ground ; those who play throw 
loggats at it ; he that is nearest the stake wins. Loggats are small pieces of wood thrown 
at fruit that cannot otherwise be got at. Loggats, little logs or wooden pins, a play the 
same with ninepins; in which boys, however, often used bones instead of wooden pins. 

Dea7i Mules' M.S., H alliwelV s Diciionary. 

Nmeholes, according to Forby, is a game for which you make nine round holes in the 
ground, and a ball is aimed at them from a certain distance : or the holes are made in a 
board with a number over each, through which the ball is to pass. Nares thinks it is the 
same with ninemens morris, called in some places ninepenny mail. 

Tick Jack, a kind of backgammon ; so is Irish. Noddy, a game at cards, by some 
supposed to have been the same as cribbage. Maive was also a game of cards, played by 
any number from two to six, with a piquet pack of thirty-six cards. Ruffe was also a 
game of cards, at which ' the greatest sorte of the sute carrieth away the game.' 

Hott Cockley is of course identical with Hot Cockles. 

Pen and Inkhont John. 

Barley Break, an ancient rural game. 

Shove Groate, identical with Shovel Board. 

Cross and Pile, heads and tails ; tossing. 

Ve7iterpoy7it, a child's game. 

Beshrowe or Beshrewe, a mild form of imprecation. Florio derives die word from 
shrew-mouse, to which deadly qualities were once ascribed. 

Topp and Scourge, a whipping-top. 



The Gayton Wishing Well. 

[It is thought in the neighbourhood of Gayton, that anyone who may here form a wish, 
and throw a stone backwards into the well, will ensure the realisation of their desires.] 




HE Wishing Well, the Wishing Well, 
In Gayton lane you find; 
Oft had I of the spring heard tell, 
Sought by fond maid or hind. 



II. 



Should ought fair maiden long to have, 

She flies to this lone spot ; 
She throws a stone into the wave. 

Then seeks again her cot. 



III. 



She fancies as the bubbles rise 
Above the sinking stone, 

Her wish must reaHse the prize 
For which she left her home. 



The Gay ton Wishing Well. 231 



IV. 

Look under that rock moss-grown cope 
That roofs the Wishing Well ; 

For there each pebble speaks of hope, 
Of hundreds heaped pell-mell. 

V. 

And none of those who fling a stone, 
And breathe fond wishes here. 

But deem they thus the seeds have sown 
Of fruit esteemed most dear. 



VI. 

Young Nelly trusts that from the fair 
To which her Liibi7i\ gone, 

He may bring back to deck her hair 
Some gaud — she drops a stone. 



VII. 

When he that e'en returns to Nell^ 
And brings the sighed-for toy, 

She's sure to stone and Wishing Well 
She owes her simple joy. 

VIII. 

Too oft we think we victims are 

Of disappointments chill. 
That we alone (poor martyrs) bear 

The brunt of every ill. 



232 The Gay ton Wishing Well. 



IX. 

But could we register and note 

Our granted wishes all. 
Soon, soon, our discontent, I wot, 

Like blighted fruit would fall. 

X. 

As I thought thus and mused beside 

The Gayton Wishing Well, 
I fancied on the wall I spied 

A strange fern in its cell. 

XI. 

I tore the treasure from its nook ; 

When I gazed on it near, 
I cried (triumphant at my luck), 

More than I wished is here. 

XII. 

Thus, through life's journey we may share 
The long-sought wish, and more. 

Unlooked-for joys than granted prayer. 
Are sometimes brighter far. 



William III. slept at Gayton Hall on his way to Ireland. There is not, I am afraid, 
sufficient authority for asserting that his successes against James were owing to his 
having previously thrown a stone into the Wishing Well. 




The Ro St heme Bell. 




ERRILY, merrily, over the Mere^ 
The echoes rose and fell ; 
Rose on the breeze, fell on the ear, 
Dingdong the Rosiherne bell. 



II. 



On buttress old, and crumbling stone, 
The masons plied their trade, 

Repaired the courses overthrown, 
The rents that time had made. 



III. 



When, lo ! from battlement to base 
A shivering shakes the steeple ; 

Down drops the big bell from its place, 
Right in among the people ! 



IV. 



Down the steep bank that crowns the lake 

It crashed, and leapt, and rolled, 
Through birch-wood copse, and briar, and brake. 

And 'mid the Lindens old. 



234 The Rostherne Bell. 



V, 

Till on the margin of the Mere^ 

'Tis fain at length to settle, 
Exhausted by its mad career, 

That ponderous mass of metal. 

VI. 

But oh the sweat, and oh the toil, 
The strain of the muscles' power. 

The bursting sob, the weary coil 
To try it back to the Tower ! 

VII. 

Quoth one in wrath : ' Thou senseless lump, 

I would the devil had you ! 
When at the word, with a spring and a thump. 

Back towards the lake it flew. 



VIII. 

First, in its headlong course, it crushed 
Th' unlucky wight who swore. 

Then down the bank it madly rushed ; 
They never saw it more. 



IX. 

In depths unfathomable drowned. 
No more that tuneful tongue 

Shall greet the ear with cheerful sound 
At morn or even song. 



The Ros theme Bell. 



235 



X. 



And now whenever peal the bells 
From Rostkerne's tower so hoary, 

The waihng sound too plainly tells 
Of its departed glory. 



Stanza 7. ' With a spring and a thump.' 

AvTiS eweira viSouSe KuAiVSero Aaa? dvaiS^s. 













tm^ 



1^ 



The Curst Fisherman. 



A Tale of the Wirral. 

[On the Cheshire coast, if anyone should find a corpse thrown up by the sea, and instead 
of procuring it Christian burial leave it to the mercy of the winds and waves, he would 
be considered to have incurred eternal opprobrium and obloquy of the most indelible 
nature, and that the avenging spirit of the unburied corpse will ever afterwards through 
life perse veringly haunt the unhappy man who disregarded the sacred rights of the dead.] 




WO fishermen loved Bessy Blake ; 
A comely maid was she ; 
Her parent's cot was at Hoylake^ 
Not far from Hilbree. 



II. 



Two fishermen loved Bessy Blake^ 

Each other hated sair ; 
Their ndXixt^JoJm Sto?ie and William Lake, 

'^xiXjohn she favoured mair. 



III. 



A wild storm swept the Cheshire shore j 
John Stone was on the deep ; 

His boat, alas ! was seen no more, 
Which Bessy caused to weep. 




THE CURST FISHERMAN. 



The Curst Fisherman. 237 



TV. 

Early next morn Will Lake arose, 
The waste of sands he sought ; 

Landwards a sight his Hfe-blood froze, 
The flowing billows brought. 

V. 

His rival's corpse lay stark and stare, 

Half swathed in slimy weed ! 
One hand still clasped a lock of hair, 

Grasped in his utmost need. 

VI. 

'Twas Bessy\ : Lake turned grimly then, 

And spurned him as he lay. 
And watched till the tide ebbed again, 

And whirled the corpse away. 

VII. 

A shrimper by an old wreck sat ; 

Unseen the deed he viewed, 
Soon known by all, when general hate 

The miscreant pursued. 

VIII. 

Shame on the fishennan, who leaves 
A corpse the hoarse wave's sport ! 

Whose winding-sheet the seawrack weaves, 
And wild gulls scream the mort. 



238 



The Curst Fisherman. 



IX. 



No peace had William from that hour, 

Within, without the door ; 
His rival's face still seemed to glour, 

As when him last he saw. 



X. 



By Bessy scorned (for she'd been told 
Who'd her dead lover spurned), 

Avoided by the young and old, 
Despised where'er he turned. 



XI. 



By night, by day, at eve, at morn. 
Still, still, those features sad 

Gazed on him with that stare forlorn. 
At length the wretch went mad. 






w^^ 




nc 










M^?;' 


[^vjg^^ 










^M 







Cheshire May Song. 



LL on this pleasant evening together come are we 
For the summer springs, so fresh, green, and gay, 
To tell you of a blossom that hangs on every tree, 
Drawing near to the morning of May. 
Oh this is pleasant ! singing sweet May-flower is springing, 
And summer comes^ so fresh and gay. 



Rise up, the master of the house, all in his chain of gold, 
For the summer springs, so fresh, green, and gay. 

And turn unto your loving wife, so comely to behold, 
Drawing near to the morning of May. 

Oh this is pleasant ! singing sweet May-flower is springing. 
And summer comes, so fresh and gay. 



Rise up, the mistress of this house, with gold upon your breast, 
For the summer springs, so fresh, green, and gay ; 

And if your body's sleeping, we hope your soul has rest. 
Drawing near to the morning of May. 

Oh this is pleasant I singing sweet May-flower is springing. 
And summer comes, so fresh and gay. 



240 Cheshire May Song. 



or, 

Oh ! rise up, Mr. A. B. ; all joys to you betide ! 
Your steed stands ready saddled a hunting for to ride. 
&c. &c. &c. 

or, 

Your saddle is of silver, your bridle is of gold ; 
Your bride shall ride beside you, all lovely to behold. 
&c. &c. &c. 

or, 

Oh ! rise up, Mr. D. C, and take your pen in hand ; 
For you're a learned scholar, as we do understand. 
&c. &c. &c. 

or. 

Oh ! rise up, Mistress E. F., all in your rich attire ; 
You are to have some noble lord or else some wealthy squire. 
&c. &c. &c. 

or. 

Oh ! rise up, all the little ones, the flower of all your kin, 
And blessed be the chamber their bodies lie within. 
&c. &c. &c. 

or, 

Oh ! rise up, the good housekeeper, all in her gown of silk, 
And may she have a husband good and twenty cows to milk. 
&c. &c. &c. 

or. 

But where are all those fair maids that used here to dance % 
Oh, they are gone abroad from hence, to spend their lives in 
&c. &c. &c. [France. 



Cheshire May Song, 



241 



or^ 



God bless your house and harbour, your riches and your store, 

For the summer springs, so fresh and gay : 
We hope the Lord will prosper you both now and evermore, 

Drawing near to this morning of May. 
Oh this is pleasant ! singing sweet May-flower is springing, 

And summer comes, so fresh, green, and gay. 

NEW MAY SONG. 






1^=f^ 



3t:i: 



ibz_l:^ 



^z^iznt 



±=t 



t) 





^ 1 , , H 


IJ J J^l 


\-A- 


-hH-^-n'f-^-r-'- 


«> 


^-^-^- 


1 — 1 


y^*j 


-^-f-^-^-j 1 1 r - 




^ 



]=B 






^^^ 



The verses of the preceding song may be extended to suit the inmates, or any particular 
inmate, of the different houses visited on their rounds by the May Singers, and the wit 
and point would of course depend upon the talents, quickness, and readiness of the leader 
of the band. 




Prince Madoc\ Heirs, 



A Legend of Farndon Bridge. 




RINCE Ma doc lay upon his bier 
(The Lord of Dinas Bi'aii) 
At Valle Crncis Abbey near ; 
The monks his requiem sang. 



They pray for him as chief of Yale^ 
Of Dinas Bran the Lord ; 

Saes?ieg, Chirk, Nanheudwy, in Wales, 
And Bromjield'% acres broad. 



III. 



Two sons survive, Prince Madoc's pride, 

His knightly name to bear, 
These were his lordships to divide, 

And his estates to heir. 



IV. 



The eldest just ten springs had seen, 
The younger scarcely eight ; 

Oh ! winsome boys they were, I ween, 
But sad their orphan fate. 



Prince Madoc\ Heirs. 243 



Better for them, poor bairns ! had they 

Escaped the princely lot, 
From knightly towers far away, 

Born in some lonely cot. 



VI. 

The lordly oak uprooted lies, 
That braved aloft the gale ; 

Wild storms the violet defies, 
Nestling in lowly vale. 



VII, 

King Edward gave them guardians two, 

Their infant years to tend, 
And their broad lands with honour due 

From wrong and bale defend. 

VIII. 

These guardians both wore ermine fur; 

The Earl of Warren one. 
The other of Lord Mortiiner 

Was, Roger hight, the son. 

IX. 

Their names were noble ; noble blood, 
Alas ! ran through their veins ; 

Their hearts were black and dead to good 
As the first murderer Cam'^. 
b2 



244 Prince Madoc\ Heirs. 



X. 

Like husbandmen (of whom of old 

Our Saviour's story ran, 
Which He to His disciples told), 

They laid their treacherous plan. 

XI. 

' Come, let us kill the heirs,' they say, 
' Their lands shall be our own ; 

Their death to us opes fortune's way ; 
Let it at once be done.' 

XII. 

Dark was the night ; black Dez'a'?, bed 
Ran deep with wintry flood ; 

Next day some spoke of shrieks, and said 
They feared some deed of blood ! 

XIII. 

From that dread hour, no mortal eye 
Prince Madoc\ sons e'er saw; 

O'er Dinas Bran and JVanhendwy 
The rule their guardians bore. 

XIV. 

The eye of heaven who may fly 1 
Naught is from God concealed. 

Murder, though wrought all secretly, 
By heaven is oft revealed. 



Prince Madoc\ Heirs, 



245 



XV. 



Belated travellers quake with fear, 
And spur their starting horse ; 

For childish shrieks, they say, they hear 
As Farndoii^ Bridge they cross. 



XVI. 



Two fairy forms, all clothed in white, 
Still hovering o'er the Dee^ 

At midnight oft by pale moonlight 
The ghost-struck rustics see. 



Stanza 8. ' Both wore ermine fur.' Ermine and sable were furs worn as distinctive 
marks of nobility. 

Stanza 12. ' Ran deep with wintry flood : ' Turbidus hybernis forte fluebat aquls. 



Sammy Grice\ Epitaph, 




[He was a half idiot dwarf, a citizen of Chester, who died March 1821, a^ed 77. He 
gained his livelihood by the sale of ventpegs and skewers to the brewers and butchers of 
Chester.] 

CAPED from a world of ridicule and pains, 
This verdant copse o'erlays the brief remains 
Of Samuel Grice, a man of much renown 
Within the circle of his native town. 
Long of that town he was the current jest, 
And schoolboys struggled which should tease him best ; 
His pigmy stature, waddling gait, and phiz, 
Oft furnished laughter to the vacant quiz. 
Whilst they who scanned him with a feeling eye 
Pitied his harmless nature, and passed by. 
On Sundays in his scarlet coat attired. 
And reverend hat, by waggish folk admired. 
Sure as the Sabbath came its weekly round 
At church the harmless idiot was found ; 
When done, though pleased his finery to view. 
He reached his hand to welcome all he knew, 
And with a smile which spoke his welcome true, 
He'd gabble forth, ' Well, sir ! How do 1 how do 




SAMMY GRICE. 



Sammy Grices Epitaph. 247 



But ah ! the ruthless tapster Death 

Hath placed a ventpeg on poor Sammfs breath, 

And all his little virtues could not save 

His little body from this little grave, 

His soul they can — his soul, to mercy given, 

I trust through mercy now hath rest in heaven, 

Where they who hold deformity a jest 

Will ne'er intrude to mar his heavenly rest. 







Chorus of Liberal-minded Foxes. 



|I\Iet to celebrate the birthday of Geoffrey Shakerley, late Master of the Cheshii 
Fox Hounds.] 



CHORUS. 

ERE'S to Shakerley' ^ health, and returns of this day, 
And that we may, hke him, Hve to see it we pray. 




\st Fox. 

Here's his health ! o'er my old wife he sounded the mort, 
A. regular vixen ! one of the wrong sort. 

2nd Fox. 
Here's his health ! of my firstborn his hounds made their grub ; 
His crimes whitened my tag — a most dissolute cub. 

"^rd Fox., a real lady. 
Here's his health ! for he chopped my fat husband in cover ; 
I'm blest with a younger mate, but older lover. 



4//^ Fox. 
Here 's his health ! for as panting I lay in a drain, 
Having had quantum suff'm. a very long run, 
He would not let them dig me, on which they were fain. 
Saying, 'Leave him alone, he will show some more fun.' 



Chorus of Liberal-minded Foxes. 249 



CHORUS. 

Here's Shakerley'^ health ! for though we may be sinners, 

He saves us from keepers, and pays for our dinners ; 

It is he plants our gorses so snug and so warm, 

And takes care that traps and nets do us no harm ; 

When they lay up their cubs he keeps our wives quiet, 

Driving far from our earths all row and all riot ; 

And a brush now and then we can very well spare, 

When he gives us a brush so oft during the year. 

And may many returns of his birthday be spent ! 

May he live to a hundred ! Who knows more of scent ? 




There was a Jolly Miller lived on the 
River Dee. 

[From the 'Convivial Songster, 17S2.' The tune it was sung to was an old one called 
The Budgeon, it is a delicate trade.'] 




jHERE was a jolly Miller once lived on the river Dee, 
He danced and sang from morn to night, no lark so 

blithe as he ; 
And this the burden of his song for ever used to be, 
' I care for nobody, no not I, if nobody cares for me.' 

II. 
' I live by my mill, God bless her ! she's kindred, child, and wife. 
I would not change my station for any other in life. 
No lawyer, surgeon, or doctor, e'er had a groat from me. 
I care for nobody, not I, if nobody cares for me.' 



III. 

When spring begins its merry career, oh how his heart grows 

gay! 
No summer's drought alarms his fears, nor winter's sad decay ; 
No foresight mars the Miller's joy, who 's wont to sing and say, 
' Let others toil from year to year, I live from day to day.' 



The Miller of the Dee. 251 



IV. 

Thus like the Miller, bold and free, let us rejoice and sing : 
The days of youth are made for glee, and time is on the wing. 
This song shall pass from me to thee along this jovial ring; 
Let heart and voice and all agree to say, ' Long live the King ! 




About two years since the following version, supposed by the finder to be the original 
song of 'the Jolly Miller,' was found written on the fly-leaf of a volume of Dryden's 
Poems, printed 1716. 



HERE was a jolly Miller once 

Lived on the river DeCj 
He worked and sang from morn till night, 

No lark more blithe than he ; 
And this the burden of his song 

For ever used to be, 
' I care for nobody, not I, 

If nobody cares for me.' 



II. 

The reason why he was so bhthe 

He once did thus unfold, 
' The bread I eat my hands have earned ; 

I covet no man's gold ; 
I do not fear next quarter-day ; 

In debt to none I be. 
I care for nobody,' &c. 



252 



The Miller of the D 



ee. 



III. 

* A coin or two I've in my purse 
To help a needy friend ; 

A little I can give the poor, 
And still have some to spend. 

Though I may fail, yet I rejoice 
Another's goodhap to see. 
I care for nobody,' &c. 

IV. 

So let us his example take, 

And be from malice free ; 
Let every one his neighbour serve 

As served he'd like to be ; 
And merrily push the can about, 

And drink and sing with glee. 
If nobody cares a doit for us. 

Why not a doit care we. 



There is an old Cheshire proverb expressive of boundless extravagance, ' If thou hadst 
the rent of Dee Mills thou wouldst spend it.' The Dee miller, by publishing the whole of 
his song, I prove to have been a very amiable character, instead of the personification of 
selfishness, of which I have heard him accused by those who knew nothing of him but 
the verse ' I care for nobody,' &c. , misquoting even this line by putting an and instead of 
an if. 



THE MILLER OF THE DEE. 




The Miller of the Dee. 



253 




t 



W^^ 



ifist 



There dwelt a mil - ler hale and bold, Be - side the ri - ver 



i 



^faLj:^ 



^ 



^=^^r^" 



5 



-lr< 



^- 



,.,-_^- 



:t^ 



iti:^ 



m 



:i==l^ 



Dee, 



He work'd and sang from morn to night, No 



fci 



P^5E^ 



fcl: 



--^r 



1^-^ 



r^^ 



.^-^^ — j^—^ 



:a^i:3|=f= 



f-tq: 



:^Q 



Jtre^ 



n^^. 



^ 



2^ 



254 



The Miller of the Dee. 



i^^^^ ps^gg^ 



lark more blithe than he ; And this the bur-den of his song, For 



m 



^^s^ 



±=5: 



■^ 



JTj. 



^~ 



:t=3: 



iztzi 






fcz!- 



rii^. 



■i 






^^ 



S 



ev - er used to be, 



en - vy no-bo- dy, no not I, And 




^^=^=^ 



i 



f^Ei 



^^^^^^. 



TK-it 



^^^5^^^^§S^ 



±± 



\m 



i^s= 



:^:3: 






il*^ no-bo-dy en - vies me. 



:!2=d=5!^ 



^^^iPF^PP 



H^^_^_ 



ifca^zz: 






1=-^: 



^^ 



I I 



Unica Semper Avis. 

To my countrimen of the Naviptwiche in CJieshire. 

To the succeeding verses is prefixed the emblem of the Phoenix, from a choice of emblemes 
by Geoffrey Whitney, a.d. 1586. 




pHE Phoenix rare, with fethers freshe of hewe, 
Arabia's righte, and sacred to the sonne, 
Whome other birdes with wonder seeme to vewe, 
Dothe Hve untill a thousande yeares be ronne, 
Then makes a pile, which, when with sonne it burnes, 
Shee flies therein, and so to ashes turnes; 
Whereof behoulde ! an other Phoenix rare 
With speede dothe rise, most beautifull and faire. 
And though for truthe this manie doe declare, 
Yet thereunto I mean not for to swear e, 

Akhoughe I knowe that aucthors witnes true 
What here I write, bothe of the oulde and newe ; 
Which when I wayed the newe and eke the oulde, 
I thought upon youre towne, destroyed with fire, 
And did, in minde, the newe Namptwiche behoulde, 
A spectacle for anie man's desire. 

Whose buildinges brave, where cinders weare but late, 
Did represente (me thought) the Phoenix fate. 



256 Unica Semper Avis, 



And as the oulde was manie hundreth yeares 

A town of fame before it felt that crosse, 
Even so (I hope) this Wiche that nowe appeares 
A Phoenix age shall laste and knowe no losse. 

Which God vouchsafe, who make you thankfull all 
That see this rise and sawe the other fall. 



The above is a specimen of Geoffrey Whitney, our oldest Cheshire poet. ' A Choice of 
Emblemes ' was published at Leyden, in the house of Christopher Plantyn. The fire to 
which he alludes took place in 1583, at a brewery in Nantwich, and destroyed 600 dwell- 
ing houses, brewers' outhouses, &c., doing damage to the amount of 30,000/. There was 
a general collection for the inhabitants through the country, and the Queen subscribed 
2000/., and what timber might be required from Delamere Forest to rebuild the town. 

Mr. Green, M.A., of Knutsford, has published a valuable reprint of Geoffrey Whitney's 
Emblems, or rather an exact reproduction. 





'Congleton Bear Town where they sold 
the Bible to buy a Bear.' 

Old Cheshire Proverb. 

LONG time ago, in our forefathers' days, 
They sought for amusement in all sorts of ways. 
Dog fighting ! bull baiting ! or drawing the brock ! 
Or losing their broad lands by backing a cock ! 
Then ladies of all ages raced for a smock ! 
Scarce any man ever went sober to bed ; 
'Tis quite dreadful to think the lives they all led ! 
At that time in Cheshire no fun could compare 
With that sport of all sports — viz. baiting a bear ; 
Many inns of the past still tell the same tale, 
For scarce in the county a hamlet will fail 
To hang up as sign a bear black, white, or brown 

There's Barton which must of the bear be the town. 
No doubt to this bear baiting we trace the cause 
Why we find in Cheshire so many ' Bears' Paws ; ' 
But Congleto7t bear baiting loved above all, 
Headquarters, that place, of the sport we may call ; 
For old town accounts show what money they spent 
In paying their bearwards, and how much more went, 
s 



258 Selling the Bible to 



(Three-and-sixpence) for bringing the bears to the wake, 
Besides drink, the thirst of these bearwards to slake ; 
But truth must be told, e'en though Congleton blush, 
We must not all sins of our forefathers hush. 
A new Bible was wanted — the old one was done — 
And Bibles in those days cost a precious sum ! 
At length all the townsfolk resolved to subscribe, 
(Expense is scarce felt which the many divide). 
So at length they collect all the gold they require. 
To the joy of the parson, the clerk, and the choir. 
'Twas the time of the wakes, when just then 'twas said 
The town bear, when he was most wanted, was dead. 
How to raise a new bear ? — In these days 'twould be easy, 
For if M.P., sheriff, or mayor, they would teaze ye ; 
At once to subscribe, a new bear would be bought. 
Or from Wombwell's or other wild beast show, be brought ; 
Or a ladies' bazaar at once improvised, 
That unblushing robbery, now legalised, 
Which turns pincushions, penwipers, slippers, or braces, 
(Forced on crabbed old gents by the fairest of faces) 
To sums which are well worth anyone's robbing, 
Though raised from small items, straw, tape, or bobbin ; 
In those days, those modern plans were all unknown, 
Of stealing a friend's purse and saving your own. 

The wakes were approaching ! — and there was no bear ! 
Some one whispered (who 'twas none e'er dared to declare. 
No one's ever wrong unless it be the cat, 
Th' experience of all ages teaches us that), 
' There's the money which to buy a Bible we raised. 
With that buy a bear at once, for heaven be praised, 



Buy a Bear. 259 



Our priest has so long read in th' old book, 'tis clear 
He might do so still for at least one more year ! ' 
Alas ! human nature ! the bear won the day, 
So convincing the reason ' There's nothing to pay ! ' 
A new bear was bought straight instead of the book — 
The insult the parson was thus forced to brook ; 
In vain he cried loudly ' My townsmen forbear, 
For shame ! such unbearable conduct to dare ! ' 
This sacrilege cost Congletonians dear. 
Through the breadth of the county the sneer forced to hear, 
(Whenever men saw Congletonian near) 
' Like Congleton bear town, where money to save, 
The Bible itself for a new bear they gave.' 
P.S. The townsmen 'tis true would explain this away, 
' In those days when Bibles were so dear,' they say 
That they th' old Bible swopped at the wakes for a bear. 
Having first bought a new book.' Thus shirk they the sneer, 
And taunts 'gainst their town thus endeavour to clear. 



Line lo. ' Many inns of the past,' &c. — Apropos to bears and inns, I have heard of the 
following inscription on a tavern : — 

'Good Bear sold here, my own Brnm.^ 

Line 15. 'Why we find in Cheshire so many Bears' Paws.' — The Bear's Paw is the sign 
of many old-established Inns, at High Leigh and Frodsham, amongst other places. 

We learn what was done in former days by what was forbidden. The Scholars and 
Fellows of Eton College are forbidden, amongst other things, to keep ' simiam, ursam,' &c. 
Line 18. ' For old town accounts show,' &c. — In the town accounts of Congleton are 
the following items : — 

£ s. d. 
1589. Paid the Trafford's man the bearward . . . . 044 

1601. Gave to beanvard at the great cock-fight . . . . 068 
Wine for the gentlemen at the said fight . . . . 060 

1602. Bestowed at the great bear bait in wine, sack, spice, figs, 

almonds, and beer o 11 10 

1613. Fetching the bears at the wakes, 35. td. ; ditto two more 

bears, i.y. ; bearward, 15J. . . . . • . o 19 6 

In 1599, in the accounts, an item appears of 5s. to Mr. Carr, for preaching four sermons 
a third of the sum they in 1589 give to the bearward, and not as much as they gave two 
years afterwards, 1601, to the bearward in ' the great cocke fighte.' 

S 2 



The Stage Coach. 

Circa 1765. 




ESOLVED to visit a far distant friend, 
A porter to the Bull and Gate I send, 
And bid the slave at all events engage 
Some place or other in the Chester stage. 

The slave returns, 'tis done as soon as said. 

Your honour's sure when once the money's paid. 

My brother whip, impatient of delay, 

Puts to at three and swears he cannot stay , 

(Four dismal hours ere the break of day) 

Roused from sound sleep (thrice called) at length I rise, 

Yawning, stretch out my arms, half closed my eyes. 

By steps and lanthorn enter the machine 

And take my place — how cordially ! — between 

Two aged matrons of excessive bulk ; 

To mend the matter too, of meaner folk : 

While in like mode jammed in on t'other side 

A bullying captain and a fair one ride, 

Foolish as fair, and in her lap a boy. 

Our plague eternal, but her only joy. , 

At last, the glorious number to complete. 

Steps in my landlord for that bodkin seat. 



The Stage Coach. 261 



When soon by ev'ry hillock, rutt, and stone, 

Into each other's face by turns were thrown ; 

This granam scolds ; that, coughs ; the captain swears ; 

The fair one screams, and has a thousand fears, 

While our plump landlord, trained in other lore, 

Slumbers at ease, nor yet ashamed to snore ; 

And Master Dicky in his mother's lap. 

Squalling at once brings up three meals of pap. 

Sweet company ! next time I. do protest, sir, 

I'll walk to Dublin ere I ride to Chester. 



Line 14. 'Two aged matrons of excessive bulk.' — This in a ballad about contempora- 
neous is worded rather stronger : 

* Squeezed in 'twixt two bolsters of talkative fat.' 




The Death Omen. 

A Legend of Blackmere or Brereton's Lake. 
' Of neighbours Blackmere named of stranger's Brereton's Lake.' — Drayton, 




TRUCK down the Lord oi Brereton lies 
Tossing on restless bed ; 
'Tis seven days since in vain he tries 
To ease his bursting head. 



His bloodshot eyes are strange to rest, 
His mad pulse wildly throbs ; 

Friends grieve, but hide their sorrow, lest 
They double his wife's sobs. 



in. 



Though the leech speaks of hope the word 

He knows life's course is run, 
He fears, alas ! that Brereton's lord 

Won't see another sun. 



The Death Omen. 263 



The old nurse tearless, sentry sits, 
His ruffled pillow smooths, 

Or seeks to cool the fire-parched lips, 
Or damps of death removes. 



V. 

She's heard men tell her nursling's praise. 

First 'mongst a gallant race ; 
He was not one in youthful days 

The old name to disgrace. 



VI. 

She's seen him bring to these old halls 
A young and noble bride ; 

With vassals' welcome rang the walls, 
Oh ! Brereton was their pride ! 



VII. 

Again, before twelve months, a roar 

Of joy, and doings rare. 
As she midst tenants proudly bore 

Aloft her nursling's heir. 



VIII. 

But now, alas ! woe worth the day ! 

She watched her lord's death-bed ; 
Could she of hope but see one ray ! 

Could she die in his stead ! 



264 The Death Omen, 



IX. 

At last, as night steals o'er the plain, 

She can no longer stay ; 
Into the darkness hastes amain, 

And hurries far away. 

X. 

The BreretojH^ fate, stern she resolves 
From Bj^eretoiH lake to learn 

The mystery that BIack?nere solves 
Was now her sole concern. 



XI. 

She reached the margin of the lake, 
Hushed, hushed, was all around : 

Till nature should again awake. 
To watch she sat her down. 



XII. 

No screech-owl floated on the breeze, 
From distant church-tower strayed ; 

No night wind whistled through the trees, 
The moon no ban dog bayed. 

XIII. 

Naught recked the watching nurse of fear ; 

Of self she had no thought, 
But of her lord, to her so dear, 

In cold death's meshes caught. 



The Death Omen. 265 



XIV. 

And now the streaks of dawn began 
To cross the eastern sky ; 

Then in the lake that watcher wan 
Sought what she might descry. 



XV. 

The Mere^ worked as with wintry storm. 
Though all was still around, 

And shadows seemed of startHng form, 
Through gloaming mists to bound. 



XVI. 

The black waves surged against the shore, 

Seething with upward throe j 
Strange water-monsters seemed to roar, 

And sport themselves below. 

XVII. 

Sudden the watcher, pale with care. 
Sprang up like one distressed, 

And tossed her shrivelled arms in air, 
And beat her aged breast. 

XVIII. 

Convulsive sobs, wild scream on scream, 

Ring through the murky air : 
Well might a startled listener deem 

Some hellish orgies near ! 



266 The Death Omen. 



XIX. 

Why looks that watcher Hke despair ? 

What mean those piercing screams 1 
Why toss those withered arms in air ? 

Why so distraught she seems 1 

XX. 

'Tis that amidst the waves she sees 
(Boihng with wondrous rage), 

The blackened trunks of floating trees 
To Brereton — death's presage ! 

XXI. 

Slowly the old nurse quits the strand 

Of that dark fatal Mere ; 
No hope hath she from flood or land. 

The Brereton's time is near. 

XXII. 

For blackened trunks ne'er rise at all, 
From Bagjuere'^ depths profound ; 

But when the head of Brereton Hall 
Is doomed to certain death. 



The Breretons of Brereton as a Cheshire family are extinct; their lands and their old 
Hall has past away to the stranger. The Mere (known by the three names mentioned as 
above, and quoted by Fuller 200 years since, as the only wonder in Cheshire, and specially 
noticed by Drayton in his ' Polyolbion,' published in 1613) is partially drained and its 
mysteries vanished. In Sir Philip Sydney's ' Seven Wonders of England,' we find the 
following : — 

The Breretons have a lake which, when the sun ^ 

Approaching warms (not else), dead logs up sends 
From hideous depth, which tribute when it ends, 
Sore sign it is the lord's last thread is spun. 



Jt^^ 


•^X^^^^^j''^^;.^ 


"^^^■^ 


— - — ^- 


-T— r 


^t*i 


1//-. 






MM^^-^ 


:i^^ 


iSW 


i 



The Highwayman Outwitted. 




T'S of a rich farmer in ChesJw^e^ 
To market his daughter did go, 
Thinking that nothing would happen her, 
For she'd oftentimes been there before , 
For she'd oftentimes been there before. 



She met with a lusty highwayman, 
A pistol he placed to her breast, 

Crying, ' Give me thy money and clothing. 
Or else thou shalt die in distress ; 
Or else thou shalt die in distress.' 



III. 
He hipped her and stripped her stark naked, 

And gave her the bridle to hold, 
And there she stood shivering and shaking, 

Almost starving to death in the cold ; 

Almost starving to death in the cold. 



268 The Highwayman Outwitted. 



IV. 

She placed her right foot in the stirrup, 
And mounted his horse hke a man ; 

Over hedges and ditches she galloped, 

Crying, ' Catch me thou rogue if thou can ; ' 
Crying, ' Catch me thou rogue if thou can.' 

V. 

* Oh daughter ! oh daughter ! what's kept thee, 
What's kept thee so long at the taan 1 ' 

' Oh father ! I've been in much danger, 
But the rogue he has done me no harm ; 
But the rogue he has done me no harm.' 



The farmer's daughter must have been a good horsewoman, for she appears by the 
line, 

* She placed her right foot in the stirrup,' 

to have mounted on the off side. 

* To have anyone on the hip ' is to have the advantage of anyone, which, I conclude, 
is the meaning of ' He hipped her.' It appears some, if not many, of the stanzas' in this 
song are lost. In Ingledew's ' Ballads of Yorkshire,' we find the same plot running 
through 'The Crafty Ploughboy.' The boy had sold a cow, the proceeds of which a 
highwayman, who had given him a mount, demands from him. The boy throws the 
money down on the ground, and whilst the highwayman is collecting it, the ploughboy 
takes advantage of the opportunity and gallops off home. The ballad ends thus : 

The master he came to the door, and said thus : 
' What the deuce ! has my cow turned into a horse ? ' 
' Oh no canny master, your cow I have sold. 

But was robbed on the road by a highwayman bold. 

My money I strewed all about on the ground. 
For to take it up the rogue lighted down ; 
And whilst he was popping it into his purse. 
To make him amends I came off with his horse.' 

The master he laughed till his sides he had to hold, 
He says, ' For a boy thou hast been very bold ; 
And as for the villain thou hast served him right 
Thou hast put upon him a clean Yorkshire bite.' 



The Highwayman Outwitted. 269 



He then searched his bags and quickly he told 
Two hundred pounds in silver and gold, 
And two brace of pistols. The lad said ' I vow 
I think canny master I've sold well your cow.' 

Then the boy for his courage and valour so rare 
Three parts of the money he had for his share. 
Now, since the highwayman has lost all his store, 
He may go a robbing until he gets more. 




Miss Weaver. 
I. 

ET Germany boast of her beautiful Rliine^ 
We think more of Miss Weaver'^ Rhmo, 
And scorn e'en the best oi Johamiishurgh wine, 
Whilst we ding to Miss Weaver and Brine oh ! 



II. 
We, do not, like Germany go to the Bad^ 

Sitting round gambhng tables so green ; 
Nor hard up like boys do we run to our dad, 

But we trust to Miss Weaver our queen. 

III. 
Whilst banks all around us may break and be stopt. 

And everywhere panic is seen ; 
One bank will ne'er burst, and will ne'er be found propt, 

'Tis the bank of Miss Weaver I mean. 

IV. 

Though, perchance, her cellar may not boast of wine, 
Yet nowhere will you find a poor fellow. 

For whom, on his table when going to dine, 
Miss Weaver don't fill a saltcella7\ 



Miss Weaver, 271 



V. 

Of salt she warns everyone not to be chary, 
For her treasures pour forth from Brine all ; 

No sea-nymph is she, her name is not Mare, 
I've ne'er heard she was e'en christened Sal. 



VI, 

Yet we trust she may ne'er Salvolatile rove. 
To new regions far off and unknown ; 

But constant to Cheshire fidehty prove. 
And love Cheshire, her sweetheart alone. 



VII. 

As rivers by nature all haste to their seas. 
So clings she to her own de la mere, 

And whilst he lives by with his corps of trustees. 
She no danger nor bale need to fear. 

VIII. 

Our own river-nymph ! 'tis she liquiddX^^ bills, 
Our courts, rears, asylum, and bridges, 

Through her we escape all the various ills 
With which others county rate fridges. 

IX. 

Seventy-two stinks to hide (see Coleridge), Cologne, 

That sweet eau distils of Farina ! 
JBut a four with four os each year makes our own, 

Miss Weaver — how can we resign her ? 



272 Miss Weaver. 



X. 

Some talked of her sale, we'll trust 'twas but a sel, 
Her loss would break the palatine heart ; 

No Mersey salt knaves shall elope with our belle ; 
From Miss Weather we never will part. 

\ 

XI. 

Bold Robinhood's shire swears by Nottingham ale, 
As the foaming stream forth her sons pour ; 

But grateful for Miss Weaver'^ gifts I'll go bail, 
Cheshire cries out, h^icjov vdwp ! 

XII. 

Let boors swizzle their ha/e, for us deiog 'AXg 

Hath charms irresistibly greater, 
Which hides in its rock home till Miss Weaver calls. 

To bear it away on her water. 

XIII. 

* You should first eat a peck of salt ' (so the Dutch say), 
With a man whom you wish for your friend ; 

In her argosies Miss Weaver carries away 
Enough salt the world's quarrels to end. 

XIV. 

On the subject oti Paris the French are iti Seine, 

So we, when Miss Weaver we mention, 
Should anyone venture our heiress to blame, 

We should at once spring to attention ! 



Miss Weaver, 273 



XV. 

Our sweetheart hath the true philosopher's stone, 
That sages in vain have sought after ; 

She turns salt to gold by her power alone, 
A\Tierever the billows may waft her. 

XVI. 

Her watermark vainly may forgers pursue, 
They are foiled in their wiles and their crafts ; 

But still she gives honour where honour is due ; 
Only see how she ho7iou7's our drafts. 

XVI L 

Men formed of mud are, so anatomists say, 
For less noble mankind is than she : 

Miss Weaver'?^ fair shape was not moulded in clay, 
Her motto ' excelsior ' must be. 



XVIII. 

Let each Cheshire man his own maiden select, 
Whom he would crown queen of our witches^ 

Where mth grace and beauty so many are deckt, 
Of choice the great nicety, sich is. 

XIX. 

But crown of our wyches, one only dare claim, 
'Tis Miss Weaver'Sy Miss Weaver's alone : 

For ever she facile princess shall reign, 
Sparklmg bright on her salt crystal throne. 

T 



2 74 Miss Weaver. 



XX. 

This queen of all river -nymphs, such is our boast, 
Had both welcomed and married the Dane^ 

Long before Alexandra had come to our coasts, 
Like her Chester''^ earl hath done the same. 

XXI. 

Here's a health to Miss Weaver I a goblet fill up, 

A full brimmer of old ruby wine. 
Should one Cheshire renegade pass by the cup, 

He shall drain a full bumper of brine. 



The river Weever rises in the county, and never leaves it till it falls into the Mersey : 
' His fountain and his fall both Chester's rightly born.' 

It joins the river Dane at Davenham. In 1720 the Act for making it navigable was first 
past. Since that period it has produced a very large revenue, w^hich is spent to the 
advantage of the county. 
Lord Delamere is the present chairman of the Weever. 



Cheshire May Song. 



[Copied for me from memory by George Leigh of Lymm, not unlike one I have ah-eady 
copied from Halliwell's Palatine Anthology. It is the song now sung in the Lymm 
district.] 



I. 

LL on this pleasant evening together cometh we, 
For the summer springs, so fresh, green, and gay, 
To tell you of a blossom that buds on every tree, 
Drawing near to the merry month of May. 




n. 



Rise up, the master of this house, all in your chain of gold, 
For the summer springs, so fresh, green, and gay ; 

We hope you will not be offended, this night we make so bold. 
Drawing near the pleasant month of May. 



in. 
Oh ! rise, the mistress of this house, with gold upon your breast. 

For the summer springs, so fresh, green, and gay ; 
And if your body be asleep, we hope your soul's at rest, 
Drawing near to the merry month of May. 

T 2 



276 Cheshire May Song. 



IV. 

Sweet Flora, in her prime, down by yon river see, 
Where the fields and the meadows look gay ; 

Where the little birds are singing, sweet flowers are springing, 
And the summer springs, so fresh, green, and gay. 



V. 

He hanged on a tree our Saviour to be. 
And so did our Lord God provide 

To clothe and to feed our bodily need, 
And to save our souls when we die. 



VI. 

Now again comes the spring, which causes us to sing, 

And every living creature to rejoice. 
For giving thanks to Him that sends us everything 

That is needful for man and for beast. 



VII. 

Oh! this is pleasant, singing sweet flowers they are springing, 
And the summer springs, so fresh, green, and gay ; 

Right happy are those people who in their hearts give thanks, 
Full and still, to their great Lord alway. 

VIII. 

God bless your house and company, your riches and your store, 
For the summer springs, so fresh, green, and gay, 

And all within your gates we wish you ten times more. 
Drawing near to the merry month of May. 



Cheshire May Song. 



277 



IX. 



In the midst of peace and plenty we wish to leave you here, 
For the summer springs, so fresh, green, and gay. 

We will come no more a singing until another year. 
Drawing near to the merry month of May. 




A Legend of Rostherne Mere, 




ERRILY, merrily rang the bells, 
The bells o'er Rostherne mere, 
The tale of joy their soft echo tells 
E'en Bowden heights may hear. 



II. 



At Rostherne church long, long ago, 
Repairs some workmen make, 

When, as they laboured cheerily oh, 
They felt the tower shake. 



III. 



As the tower shook, the largest bell 

Was riven from its place. 
And eke loud clattering down it fell, 

And rolling 'gan apace. 



IV. 



Down the steep cliff-like bank it rolled 

That frowns above the mere, 
Through the fragrant birch and lindens old, 

At length the lake drew near. 






.:^i^. 



'^^.^fe 



~^^-., <-, 



?^:'a >^.fe-: 



ifm.^:i 




LEGEND OF ROSTHERNE MERE. 



A Legend of Ros theme Mere. 279 



V. 

It stopped at the brink ; hard strove the men 

To force it up the crag, 
Back to the tower to strain again 

Oh 'twas a weary drag ! 

VI. 

A sulky labourer madly cried, 
' Oh, would the Devil had you ! ' 

But scarce he'd spoke when the bell belied 
To the wave downwards flew. 

VII. 

But first in its headlong course it crushed 

Th' unlucky wight who swore, 
Then down the wild crag madly rushed ; 

They never saw it more. 

VIII. 

Sunk in the depths of that mere profound 

To which there's bottom none, 
And as it sank a dull gurgling sound 

Just to the surface won. 

IX. 

Now sadly, oh ! sadly moans the peal, 

And mourns that fatal hour ; 
They seem o'er the bell to ring a knell 

That fell from Rostherne tower. 




The Iron Gates, 

A Legend of Alderley. 
L 

LOVE those tales of ancientry, 

Those tales to fancy true, 
That bring things back from fairyland 
In all their glittering hue. 
I love to hear of stalwart knights, 

Of squires, and dwarfs, and fays, 
Whose gambols in the pale moonlight 

Fill rustics with amaze. 
Those things are to a musing wight 
Substantial things to view. 
I love those tales of ancientry, 
Those tales to fancy true. 

II. 
I love those tales my grandame told 

When I sat on her knee, 
And looked into her aged face 

With wonder filled and glee j 



The Iron Gates. 281 



Those tales that made me quake with fear, 
Though trembling with delight, 

As some huge giant fell to earth 
When vanquished in the fight ; 

Or some magician gave his aid 
To whom that aid was due. 

IIL 

Once on a time there was a man, 

A miller he by trade, 
Down by yon brook he had his mill, 

Where now the bridge is made : 
An honest man that miller was, 

An honest name did own, 
His word would pass for forty pounds 

Where'er that name was known ; 
And no one doubted what he said, 

For credence was his due. 



IV. 

The miller had a noble horse, 

It was an iron-grey; 
It had a flowing mane and tail, 

And pranced in spirit gay ; 
It looked like to a warrior's steed 

Its bearing was so good : 
And much the miller prized his horse, 

And boasted of his blood. 
He rode him hard, but fed him well, 

And he was sleek to view. 



2^2 



The Iron Gates. 



V. 

The miller to the market went 

All on a market day, 
And, as his custom always was, 

Bestrode his gallant grey ; 
He bought and sold and profit made. 

And added to his store. 
Then homeward went along the road 

He oft had gone before. 
But his good steed and he must part, 

Though grievous the adieu. 



VI. 

His way lay o'er a barren heath, 

Where now are farms and fields, 
For land where naught but thistles grew 

Now wheat and barley yields ; 
The time was toward the gloaming hour, 

When things are dimly seen ; 
No house nor man was in his sight. 

It was a lonely scene. 
His horse springs sideways with a start ! 

The thing is something new. 



VII. 

The grey horse made a sudden start, 

The miller in amaze 
Looked out, and in the twilight gloom 

An ancient met his gaze ; 



The Iron Gates. 283 



An ancient man there stood to view 
'\^^lere just before was none ; 

His horse stood still, and he himself 
Felt rooted Hke a stone. 

That aged man the silence broke : 
The horse did start anew. 



VIII. 

The man was clad like to a monk, 

A reverend air had he ; 
A white beard floated from his chin, 

He wore a rosaiy. 
He stretched his hand (ere yet he spoke), 

A hand of skin and bone ; 
(The goodly grey seemed reft of power, 

And seemed to turn to stone). 
Mildly he on the miller looked, 

The miller powerless too. 

IX. 

' I want thy horse, sell me thy horse. 

That good and gallant steed j 
I'll give thee gold to fill thy purse, 

For much thy horse I need.' 
So spoke that old mysterious monk. 

The miller quoth he, ' Nay, 
I would be loath to sell my horse, 

!My good, my gallant grey : 
For if I should my grey horse sell, 

I might the bargain rue.' 



284 The Iron Gates. 



X. 

' I want thy horse, sell me thy horse/ 

Again that old monk said 
' Name but the price, whate'er it be 

It quickly shall be paid. 
But certes 'tis, thy horse and thee 

Must part within the hour. 
Take gold whilst gold thou mayst receive, 

And whilst to give I've power.' 
The miller heaved a bitter sigh, 

The grey horse trembled too. 



XI. 

* I want thy horse, sell me thy horse,' 

A third time spoke the man ; 
' Again I say I'll give thy price ; 

Then yield him whilst thou can ; 
For I have power to make him mine 

Despite what thou mayst say. 
But good King Arthur told me first 

To ask thy price and pay : 
It is for him I want thy horse. 

And gold I bid in lieu. 



XII. 

' For good King Arthur did not die, 

As idle tales have said. 
And years and years must pass away 

Ere he sleeps with the dead. 



The Iron Gates. 285 



For Merlin from the battle bore 

His friend and King away, 
That he might lead his chivalry 

In England'^ needful day : 
It is for him I want thy steed ; 

Then yield thy King his due,' 

XIII. 

There was a magic in his voice 

That charmed, yet filled with fear, 
And made his words fall hke commands 

Upon the Hstener's ear. 
An impulse by his voice was given, 

Which no man might gainsay. 
The miller said he'd sell his horse, 

He heard but to obey. 
' Then follow me,' the old monk said, 

' And I will pay thy due.' 

XIV. 

The monk strode right across the heath, 

The miller followed too ; 
Till they came to a green hillside 

With an iron gate in view. 
The miller knew the country well, 

Each rock, each brake, each dell. 
But could not in his mem'ry trace 

The portal of that hill. 
The monk bade ope the Iron Gate, 

And open wide it flew. 



286 The Iron Gates. 



XV. 

The monk led through that Iron Gate, 

The miller past likewise; 
They scarce were through, it sudden closed 

With loud and thundering noise ; 
And whilst they were within the hill 

A strange mysterious light 
Shone all around, and still revealed 

Each wonder to the sight ; 
And much the miller was amazed 

At all that met his view. 



XVI. 

For first the monk the miller led 

To cavern large and wide, 
In which lay twice ten thousand men. 

All sleeping side by side j 
And they were cased in armour all 

Of purest steel so bright. 
And each man's falchion near him lay 

All ready for the fight ; 
And shield and lance each warrior had 

Ready disposed in view. 



XVII. 

And as the monk passed slowly on, 
Each warrior turned him o'er, 

Awoke a moment from their sleep. 
Then sank down as before. 



The Iron Gates. 287 



' It is not time ! it is not time ! 

The old monk calmly said, 
* And till the time is perfected 

This rock must be thy bed ; 
For ye are for a noble work, 

And are a noble crew.' 



XVIII. 

Then to the miller turning round, 

He said with accents bland, 
' These are King Arthur'^ chivalry, 

The noblest in the land ! 
Each warrior stretched before thee now 

Hath been well tried in fight, 
And proved himself before the foe 

To be a vaUant knight ; 
By Merlm's power all here are laid, 

But will go forth anew. 



XIX. 

' When England'^ troubles painful grow. 

And foemen cause her grief. 
Then Arthur and his noble knights 

Will haste to her relief; 
And then with deeds of chivalry 

All England will resound ; 
And none so worthy as these knights 

Will in the land be found ; 
For they are England'^ paladins, 

Men great and gallant too.' 



The Iron Gates. 



XX. 

Then onwards to another cave 

The old monk led the way, 
Where twice ten thousand gallant steeds 

Were slumbering time away, 
And by each horse a serving man. 

It was a noble sight. 
To see that band of gallant steeds 

All harnessed for the fight ! 
And when the miller's horse came there 

He fell and slumbered too. 



XXI. 

* Your horse is mine,' the old man said j 

' A noble price I'll pay ; 
Thou seest he's mine, for now thou canst 

Not move him hence away ; 
He'll good King Arthur's war steed be, 

And bear him bravely forth : 
When thy head, honest miller. 

Forgets all things on earth, 
By Merlm he preserved will be, 

As now he is to view.' 



XXII. 

Then forth the old monk led the way 
To a cave of smaller size : 

But who may tell the sight that met 
The miller's wond'ring eyes ! 



The Iron Gates. 289 



A glowing light that cave contained, 
Which fell on stone and gem ; 

And they threw back that glowing light 
As all too mean for them ; 

And sparkling shone that glittering cave 
With stones of ewery hue. 



XXIII. 

And there the miller saw huge heaps 

Of gold in coin and ore. 
The monk he bade the miller take 

His horse's price and more. 
' Take what thou wilt, take what thou canst, 

I stint thee not,' saith he ; 
The miller thought of his tolling dish, 

And helped himself right free : 
He took such store of gems and gold 

To walk he'd much ado. 

XXIV. 

The monk then led him forth the hill 

To th' open heath again. 
And said, ' Thou art a favoured man 

Within that hill to have been. 
'Tis but to some fev/ mortals given 

To see that iron door ; 
And once thy back is to it turned 

Thou 'It see it there no more. 
In peace pass on — thy way lies there : 

I bid thee, friend, Adieu.' 
u 



290 The Iron Gates. 



XXV. 

The miller looked, the monk was gone, 

And he stood there alone, 
And turning toward the Iron Gate, 

Saw but the hill of stone. 
The miller lived a prosperous man, 

And long dwelt at the mill, 
And oft to seek the Iron Gate 

He wandered towards the hill ; 
But never more that gate he saw, 

For aye it shunned his view. 



XXVI. 

And it was said that v/izard monk 

Had told him wondrous things. 
Of all that must to England hap 

Through a long line of kings ; 
Had made him wise beyond all men. 

And certes he looked grave, 
When asked v/hat things the monk revealed, 

Or what reward he gave ; 
But years, long years have past and gone 

Since he gave death his due. 



XXVII. 

And since his death full many a man 
Has sought that Iron Gate, 

And wandered near that grey hillside 
At early morn and late ; 



The Iron Gates. 291 



But still the gate is kept from view, 
By Merlin watched each hour, 

And will till off King Arthur rides 
With all his knightly power ; 

But no one knows when that may be. 
My tale is told — Adieu. 

XXVIII. 

Such was the tale my grandame told 

Whilst I sat on her knee. 
And looked into her aged face 

With wonder filled and glee ; 
And such a tale I loved to hear. 

And listen yet I can ; 
For oft what has beguiled the child 

Will still beguile the man : 
Those things are to a musing wight 

Substantial things to view. 

I love those tales of ancientry, 
Those tales to fancy true. 




ULT 2 



The Downes Blast. 




OUD echo shouts back as the sound sweeps past 
The Downes' old feudal rights, 
As on Midsummer's day he blows a blast 
On bleak Wmdgather's heights. 



II. 



He holds his lands by the blast of the horn, 

And who dare say him nay 1 
If Windgather'^ heights on Midsummer's morn 

Resound the bugle's lay. 



III. 



The murderer shrinks as he hears the call, 

He knows if caught redhand, 
That in Gallows Yard at Ovei^ton Hall, 

By Downes' word he'll be hanged. 



IV. 



The stag cowers low in his heathery lair. 

Close midst his bracken bed ; 
When the shrill horn at morn rings through the air, 

He hides his antlered head. 



The Dowries Blast. 293 



V. 

Downes' right, for the King is to rouse the deer, 

And whenever he rides, I wisse, 
Downes holds the King's stirrup, whilst that proud peer, 

The Lord Derby, holds his. 



Years follow years, still unchanged as of yore. 

Are stern Windgatker'^ heights ; 
But on Midsummer's morn the horn never more 

Shall claim the Downes his rights. 

VII. 

No deer on those hills their limbs now brace, 

Nor in lone corries play ; 
The red stag is gone, and the stalwart race 

Of Downes has past away. 



The family of Downes possessed Taxall from the reign of Edward I. to that of James I. 
The Downes held their ' land by a blast of the horn ' on Midsummer's day, standing on 
the heights of Windgather, and the yearly payment of a peppercorn. The Downes' family, 
like many others, at a time when ' might was right,' had a power of life and death in their 
districts, and a place at Overton Hall still called Gallows Yard was the scene of rough 
justice or injustice, as the case might be. The head of the Downes' family by right 
attended the King whenever he hunted in his neighbourhood. Lord Derby, instead of 
absolutely holding Downes' stirrup after Downes had held the King's, is said to have 
compounded with his dignity by holding a whip or a strap towards the stirrup when 
Downes mounted. The Overton Hall estate is now owned by the Jodrells of Yeardsley. 



The Verona Bogart. 




HE reader of this title may be curious to know the 
locaUty indicated by this foreign-sounding name, in 
the centre of Cheshire. If on the ordnance map of 
the county he traverses with his eye the hne of road 
leading from Tarporley to Nantwich, he will find, about two 
miles before reaching Acton, and near the ancient Watling 
Street, the name 'Verona.' Upon enquiry on the spot, 
an antique, quaint-looking house of moderate size would 
be pointed out on the roadside, that may have been built 
about the middle of the last century, though since modernised. 
The writer having property adjoining, has early recollec- 
tions of tales of mystery connected with this old build- 
ing, which, moreover, formerly belonged to a relative. It was 
said that on dark nights a white figure was seen flitting about 
in a supernatural way ; that in those bygone times, which to 
the present generation seem almost mythical — when the traffic 
of the country was so largely carried on by the four-horse stage, 
and when the London mail was daily seen passing and re- 
pabbing along this road from London to Chester — on dark 
winter nights there wxre sometimes seen spiritlike apparitions 
near this lone dwelling. A phantom would suddenly jump out 
from the building near the house upon the mail coach, startling 



The Verona Bogart. 295 



the half-a-sleep passengers, and causing the affrighted horses to 
fly at the top of their speed. When recovering from the vision, 
the terrified coachman and guard found that their unearthly- 
companion had vanished. For many years the neighbours 
feared to pass the house after sunset ; and if forced to do so, 
often saw, or fancied they saw, enough to confinn their worst 
suspicions — that the place was haunted ! When the v.Titer knew 
the neighbourhood in early life it was inhabited by an elderly 
lady to whom it belonged, and who with a small household 
carried on the business of the dairy. In those days, when the 
cottagers were not so ' high larned ' as at present, there w^as less 
disposition to question the authenticity of ghost stories, which 
were pretty current there about. An old tenant one day, whilst 
relating his experiences, hinted a shrewd suspicion that these 
ghosts were not altogether immaterial ; for that one winter's 
momiiig, many years before, he himself set out with his cart to 
fetch coal from the distant coal-pit, and in passing this same 
house he saw the veritable Bogart. Feeling in good heart at 
the time, he approached the figure and challenged it ; when, to 
his surprise, he discovered that it was the landlady herself, who, 
feeling wakeful and anxious about her cows, had left her bed 
to look round her farmyard in demi-toilette. The reader may 
ask, ' How do you account for the affrighted coachman % ' It 
seems almost profane to disturb so interesting a legend ; per- 
haps it might suffice to leave the solution of the enigma to the 
imagination of our Cheshire gobemouches, guided by such 
theories as might square with their individual fancies. 

If, however, our readers care to hear the explanation volun- 
teered by the present proprietress of the farm, it is as fallows : 
Many years ago an aged woman-servant lived in a part of the 
building, whose light slumbers v;ere often disturbed by the 



296 The Verona Bogart. 



noisy horn of the mail guard and the heavy tramp of his steeds, 
and she conceived a design to revenge herself upon her 
midnight disturbers. She lay in wait till a fitting opportunity, 
when suddenly, on the rapid passing of the coach, one dark 
night, she opened her window, and threw a white sheet upon 
the horses, with what effect we may easily conceive. This 
explanation seemed to satisfy my informants; but like many 
another curious myth, we may still feel at liberty to doubt and 
wonder on. The spirit world truly contains many unsolved 
enigmas ! 

As to the origin of the name of this house, I have frequently 
been at a loss to account for it. 'The two gentlemen of 
Verona,' make the name familiar to the readers of our national 
bard ; but why give the name to so prosaic a dwelling % though 
the neighbourhood is not without its poetic associations, for 
tradition tells of occasional visits of the great lyric poet, our 
famed Milton — ' who married a Cheshire lady ' — to Stoke, hard 
by, and comparatively recently, trees could be pointed out as part 
of a grove that bore his name. On the ordnance map the name 
'Verona' seems to point to another farmhouse adjoining, be- 
longing to the writer ; and in his title-deeds it appears that, 
about a hundred years since, a family of the name of ' Vernon ' 
resided there: this, by a slight change in the letters, might 
possibly account for the present Italianised name. 

We have often heard of immaterial spirits, but the following anecdote seems to point to 
a new variety of ghosts, which should not pass unnoticed, and may naturally be introduced 
in this place. 

There was and is a house in Staffordshire supposed to be haunted. A gentleman, on 
his return to the neighbourhood, asked a man whom he knew lived near this house ' How 
the ghosts were going on ? ' ' Worser nor ever,' answered the man, ' for they does say as 
how the ghosses is a breeding.' 

E. L. 



The Island of the Cross, 



A Legend of the Roodeye at Chester. 




GES ago, ere the River of Dee 
Its natural bounds forsook, — 
While it held its own as an arm of the sea, 
And was not a mere languid brook \ 



II. 



When Edward the Elder's progeny reigned 
Secure on their father's throne. 

And the Britons^ of all their lands, retained 
Unconquered Wales alone ; 



III. 



It happened that, watered by Deva'^ flood 

(So at least says Saxon lore), 
A primitive Christian temple stood 

On Haordine''s> sandy shore. 



298 The Island of the Cross. 



IV. 

What prince or martyr lay buried there, 

Or what other saintly spell 
May have lent a charm to that house of prayer, 

No record survives to tell. 

V. 

But this v/e know, — near its holiest place, 

'Twixt chancel arch and nave, 
A stately roodloft, sober grace 

And chastened beauty gave. 

VI. 

Above, an Image in vestments rich, 
— Fair type of Heaven's Queen, — 

Within an ancient sculptured niche, 
Might in those days be seen. 

VII. 

And poised within her reverend hand 

She held a Cross of wood, 
Which the faithful folk of that simple land 

Declared was ' Holy Rood !' 



VIII. 

Many a pilgrim, too, we're told, 

Came from afar to see 
This wondrous rehc that had of old 

So blessed the shores of Dee. 



The Island of the Cross. 299 



IX. 

That time, on lovely Mo?ita/fs height 
There kept strict watch and ward 

A warrior noble, Sitsyllt hight, 
Penarlag\ forest lord ! 



X. 

For why? Old Cambria' ?> sons at feud 

Were with the Mercians then, 
And many a conflict had ensued 

Between those vengeful men. 

XL 

Nay, though a truce had come, there seemed 

No settled thought of rest, 
Hence caution our good Sitsyllt deemed 

The safest course and best. 



XII. 

Thus day and night did Haordine spies 

Their round of duty take, 
To guard from treachery or surprise 

'The Headland o'er the Lake.' 



XIII. 

'Twas a scorching summer, — the grass, the grain, 

And other fruits of earth 
Had drooped and perished for lack of rain, — 

Then famine came, and dearth ! 



300 The Island of the Cross, 



XIV. 

The springs were hushed, and the streamlets dry,- 

' Penarlag^ thou'rt wholly undone ! 
Thy herds lie exhausted, thy little ones cry 

For relief, where alas ! there is none ! ' 



XV. 

But now from her home, in that Montalt camp, 
Moved a form of comeliness rare, 

Whose grace and presence united to stamp 
Her the fairest of Haordine'^ fair. 



XVI. 

Lady Trawst was the child of Prince Elys the brave, 
And 'twas held, with one common accord. 

That ne'er father a lovelier daughter gave 
Than he to Fenarlag's lord. 



XVII. 

But if nature had smiled upon Sitsylli\ spouse,- 

That lady of princely blood ! — 
She had yet higher charms, tradition avows, 

For was she not pious and good % 



XVIII. 

Yea, daily at matins and evensong 

Her custom it was to repair 
To the church, and prayerfully mingle among 

The small knot of worshippers there. 



The Island of the Cross. 301 



XIX. 

The Lady on that day meekly knelt, 
At that sacred shrine she prayed, 

And for all who in Montalfs lordship dwelt 
Implored the Virgiffs aid. 



XX. 

Long time, they say, upon bended knee 

Did Lady Trawst remain, 
With others in that fair sanctuary, 

Praying aloud for rain. 



XXI. 

Dark lowered the western setting sun, 

Red lightnings rent the sky, 
\\Tiilst booming thunder's clarion 

Rolled ominously by. 

XXII. 

Louder and nearer grew the shock. 

As that dreadful tempest raged ; 
But it found Fenarlag'?, trembling flock 

In earnest prayer engaged. 

XXIII. 

Another and yet more vi\dd flash 
Gleams through those sacred walls ; 

Then, scarcely heard 'mid that thunder's crash, 
The Virgin's image falls ! 



302 The Island of the Cross. 



XXIV. 

One piercing cry ! and 'twas only one, 
For death had triumphed there ; 

And Lady Trawsfs bright soul had flown 
To Him who answers prayer ! 

XXV. 

Loud maddening shrieks now rent the air 

On Deva's Cambrian shore, 
And shouts of anger resounded where 

Devotion reigned before. 



XXVI. 

Down tore those villagers forlorn 

Their Image, now disgraced ; 
And twelve men ' good and true ' were sworn 

To try the cause in haste. 



XXVII. 

Hincot of Hancot^ Comberbache, 
Gill, Piighet, Hughet, Pate, 

Leche, Milling, Span oi Mancot, Lache, 
Peat. Corbin of the Gate. 



XXVIII. 

These were the jury, and this the court 

Impanelled the plaint to try ; 
And their verdict amounted to this, in short, 

That the Image at once must die! 



The Island of the Cross. 303 



XXIX. 

But how^ was the question, — to hang or burn 

A reHc so highly esteemed, 
Was an act of sin, of which they in turn 

Appeared to have scarcely dreamed. 



XXX. 

So, yielding to reason, in some degree, 

And binding the Cross to her side, 
They laid them both down on the sands of Dee^ 

Within reach of the rising tide. 

XXXI. 

The moon shone full on that Montalt steep, 
While Trawst was borne to her grave ; 

And the Holy Rood floated, with surging sweep, 
On the crest of that midnight wave. 

XXXII. 

As the sorrowing mourners left the grave, 

And returned to their homes again, 
Heaven answered their lost one's prayer, and gave 

' The sound of abundance of rain !' 



XXXIII. 

Next day, for that Virgin and Holy Rood 

Each Montalt penitent calls ; 
But both had been left by the ebbing flood 

'Neath Legeceaster' s walls ! 



304 The Island of the Cross, 



XXXIV. 

Though camp and city adjacent were, 
Yet hatred between them reigned ; 

So, where the waters had left them, there 
Those relics perforce remained. 

XXXV. 

And there, on the spot where the citizens found 

That emblem of Calvarf^ tree, 
They raised, on an eye, or islet mound, 

A stone Cross, pleasant to see. 

XXXVI. 

In memory, too, of that selfsame day, 
That marsh,— now green and dry, — 

Has ever since borne, as well it may. 
Its well-known name Rood-Eye ! 



Haordine. The original way of spelling Hawarden, Flintshire. 

Penarlag, or Pen-y-llwch. The British name of the place, signifying ' The Headland 
above the Lake.' 

MONTALT. The Norman title of the entire lordship, of which Hawarden was the 
principal seat. This title has also, but apparently in error, been given to the neighbouring 
town of Mold. 

SiTSYLLT. Governor of Hawarden Castle, a.d. 946. Lady Trawst, his wife, was 
daughter of Elys, son of Anarawd, Prince of Wales. 

Legeceaster. The Saxon name of Chester (the City of the Legion). 




old Mynshull of Erdeswick, 

[A Royalist song found amongst the family papers in an old oak chest at Erdeswick 
Hall, one of the seats of the jNIinshuU family.] 



I. 

RISE ! and away for the king and y^ land ! 
Farewell to y^ couch and y'' pillow ; 
With spear in its rest, and with rein in hand, 
Let us rush on y^ foe like a billow ! 



II. 

Call the hind from y« plough, and y^ herd from the fold, 

Bid y^ wassiles to take a long pull; 
Then ride for old Erdeswick^ whose banner's unrolled 

For the cause of King Charles and Mynshull. 

III. 
Ride, ride, with red spur — there is death in delay ; 

'Tis a race for dear lyfe with y® Devil ; 
For if Cr^;;/7<;'^// prevail, and y^ king now gives way, 

Our land must in slavery revel. 

X 



3o6 Old Mynshtill oi Erdeswick, 



IV. 

Fiers Dutton is up, and young Brerefon is nigh, 

And Ffytton is over y® river ; 
From Gawsworth to Ve7ii07i ' One and All ! ' is the cry. 

And ' the king and old Mynshull for ever ! ' 



V. 

There was Leycester, and Massey, and Foo/e of old fame. 
And ZeigA with his famed triple banner; 

Old Venahks too, with his dragon and flame, 
And Egerto7i from the Old Manor. 



VI. 

Young Mainwariiig fell by the side of hys sire, 
Stout Booth was revenged for him there \ 

For the foe left his grim trunkless head in the myre, 
By the sword of old Diinha77i\ young heir. 



VII. 

Aye, 'by waif, soc, and theam, you may know Cheshirex^^xv' 
'Mid the names and the nobles here given ; 

But if truth to the king be a signal, why then 
Ye can find out old My7ishuU in heaven. 



VIII. 

' By the Crescent and Star my forefathers won 

On the plains of old Palesti7ie ; 
These Roundheads shall feel the effect of my steel, 

For age has improved it like wine ! ' 



Old Mynshull o{ Erdeswick. 307 



IX. 

There was death in each stroke, whilst old Mynshidl thus 
And Roundheads fell off in a cluster ; [spake, 

Such havoc he made, that his trusty old blade 
Told a tale the next day at their muster. 



X. 

At Edgehill he fought, and at Worcester he fell. 

But vain were the visions he cherished ; 
For the brave Cheshire heart that our king loved so well 

In the grave of y® Mynshulls lyes perished. 



XL 

Then ' Hurrah for the king ! ' our Cheshire men sing, 
Let the bells give a merrie round peal ! 

For loyal and true to his church and his king 
Old My7ishull for ever did feel. 



XII. 

May his sons prove as true to their church and their king, 

And act, like their sire, with decision 
And firamess whenever the foe's on the wing, 

For from heaven they get their commission! 



Stanza 7. ' By waif, soc, and tlieam, you may know Cheshire men.' 

Waif. From a Saxon derivation, goods dropped by a thief when pursued ; also goods 
and chattels lost, and not claimed for a year and a day, which, after certain forms, become 
the property of the lord of the manor. 

X2 



3o8 Old Mynshull of Erdeswick. 



Soc, soccagc. From soc, a ploughshare ; in Cheshire, suck. A certain tenure of lands held 
by inferior husbanding services to be performed to the lord of the fee. This tenure was of 
two sorts, free soccage and base soccage, otherwise called villanage. Socmen were, in the 
time of the Saxons, a sort of tenant that manured and tilled the peculiar demesnes of their 
lord, yielding hini work and not rent. 

Theain, ieavi. A royalty granted by the king's charter to a lord of a manor for the 
restraining and judging of bondmen and villains in his court. Many Cheshire families — 
the Dones, Davenports, Sic. — had the right of life and death on their own lands. This is 
said to be the origin of the Davenport crest — ' a rogue's head couped at the shoulders, 
with a halter round the neck, Or.' 





The Synagogue Well. 

I. 

HE Roman, in his toilsome march, 
Disdainful viewed this humble spot, 
And thought not of Egeria'?, fount 
And Nipjia's grot. 



II. 
No altar crowned the margin green, 
No dedication marked the stone ; 
The warrior quaffed the living stream, 
And hasten'd on. 

III. 
Then was upreared the Norman keep 
Where from the vale the uplands swell, 
But, unobserved, in crystal jets 
The waters fell. 

IV. 

In conquering EdwarcV'Sy reign of pride, 
Gay streamed his flag from FrodshanC?> tower, 
But saw no step approach the wild 
And sylvan bower ; 



3IO The Synagogue Well. 



V. 

Till once, when Mersey'^ silvery tides 
Were reddening with the beams of morn, 
There stood beside the fountain clear 
A man forlorn ; 

VI. 

And as his weary limbs he laid 
In its cool waters, you might trace 
That he was of the wandering tribe 
Of Israeli race. 



VII. 

With pious care, to guard the spring, 
A masonry compact he made. 
And all around its glistening verge 
Fresh flowers he laid. 



VIII. 

' God of my fathers ! ' he exclaimed, 
' Beheld of old in Horeh'-s, mount. 
Who gav'st my sires Bethesdd?> pool 
And Siloa'?> fount ; 

IX. 

' Whose welcome streams, as erst of yore, 
l^ojudah's pilgrims never fail, 
Tho' exiled far hom. Jordan'?, banks, 
And Kedron's vale ; — 



The Synagogue Well. 311 



' Grant that when yonder frowning walls, 
With tower and keep, are crushed and gone. 
The stones the Hebrew raised may last, 
And from his well the strengthening spring 
May still flow on ! ' 



The Synagogue well, evidently one of great antiquity, and, before an attempt was made 
to improve it, of most picturesque appearance, is in the grounds at Park Place, Frodsham. 
The origin of the name ' Synagogue Well ' has occasioned much discussion ; but the 
tradition respecting it may be considered as embodied in the preceding stanzas. Of 
Frodsham Castle, which was contiguous to the well, scarcely a vestige remains. 




^ 






The Old Times of Cheshire. 




HE old times ! those old days ! 
Some say that they were bad, 
But still I think those old days 
Were anything but sad ; 



When the wild cattle now confined 

Within Lyme'?, spacious park, 
Wandered where'er they had a mind, 

Through Maxfield's forest dark, 

III. 
Snuffed the free breeze of ShutUngslaw^ 

Or swam the rapid Dafie^ 
Or from the grim wolf's blood-stained jaw 

Rescued their calves again. 

IV. 

From Blacon point to Hilbree^ 

Squirrels in search of food 
Might then jump straight from tree to tree, 

So thick the forest stood. 



The Old Times of Cheshire. 313 



V. 

No chimneys tall, with choking smoke 

Obscured the light of day, 
No busy noise the silence broke. 

Where now's a crowded way. 

VI. 

Then met at butts a gallant lot, 

Each township in array ; 
And he who the best arrow shot 

Was crowned lord of the day. 

VII. 

Then banners waved o'er Beeston'^ wall, 

And clarion sounded loud. 
As Cheshi7'e sprang to honour's call, 

Cheshire^ midst proudest, proud. 



VIII. 

As minstrel told his warlike tale, 
With shouts the castle rang. 

And maidens listened, but turned pale 
As deeds of blood he sang. 



IX. 

Then bold knights strove for ladies' love. 
Or desperate venture dared ; 

Their love and valour could they prove. 
Naught they for danger cared. 



314 



The Old Times of Cheshire. 



I do not say those old days 

I wish agam we had, 
But still I think those old days 

Were anything but sad. 



' When the wild cattle,' &c. — At Lyme Park is one of the few herds of wild cattle 
remaining in England. 

' From Blacon Point to Hilbree,' &c. — There is an old saying proving the way in which 
arts of the county, now almost denuded, were once covered with trees : 
From Blacon Point to Hilbree 
A squirrel mayjump from tree to tree. 

' Then met at butts,' &c. — In former days, when we won our victories with ovur bows, 
law, custom, and inclination made the youth of the county crowd to the shooting butts. 




LONDON 

ITvIXTED BY SrOTTISWOODE AND CO 

NEW-STREET SQUARE 



SPELLS & CHARMS, WITCHES, GHOST-STORIES, &c. 



In post 8vo. with Coloured Frontispiece, price 95. 6d. 

THE FOLK-LORE 

OF THE 

NORTHERN COUNTIES OF ENGLAND AND THE BORDERS. 
By WILLIAM HENDEESON. 

With an Appendix on Household Stories by the Rev. S. BARINGr- 
GOULD, M.A. 



OPiyiONS of the PRESS. 



' We are thankful to Mr. Henderson 

and his coadjutors for a book of real value and 
much interest.' Pall Mall Gazette. 

•Altogether there is a vast deal of 

material here in a very unpretending form ; and 
at Christmas time these old stories may be made 
use of to amuse many a fireside, besides giving 
ample occupation for the graver hours of the 
linguist and antiquarian.' READEft. 

'Mr. Henderson pleases alike the 

literary antiquaries and the Christmas folk with 
a very thorough book on the Folk-Lore of the 
Northern and Border Counties, including a col- 
lection of Border customs, legends, and super- 
stitions made fifty years ago for the use of Sir 
AValter Scott by a young medical student 
living at Bowdon, for whom Sir Walter after- 
wards obtained an appointment in India. The 
book is annotated and otherwise enriched by 
Mr. Sabine Baring-Gould.' Examiner. 

*A very amusing book, which pre- 
serves for us many of the old traditions of Eng- 
land, chiefly of its northern counties, from the 
oblivion into wiiich they are beginning to fall, as 
they come to be regarded as fables by the pea- 
santry, and to be narrated only as legends, not 
authentic narratives. The whole of the book is 
very f n' ertaining, and the nccount of the charms 
and spells and witchcrafts of the nortli is exceed- 
ingly good, every localsuperstition being, asmuch 
as possible, traced home to its proper place of re- 
sidence and tlie authority for it giver. . . When 
we remember that tlie Appendix, admirable as it 
s, is only about one seventh of the wl;ole book, 
and that the bulk of the vol'ime consists i>f a 
most valuable and amusing collection of northern 



superstitions, omens, charms, por- 
tents, witcheries, ghost-stories, &c. we need not 
add that Mr. Henderson and Mr Baring-Gould 
have given us a delightful book, full of matter that 
is both entertaining and instructive.' 

SrECTATOB. 

*Mr. Henderson's book is an at- 
tempt to preserve and classify a large number 
of such superstitions, which he has himself per- 
sonally collected. It has therefore the very great 
recommendation of being in the main a first-hand 
collection. It is well classified ; the various su- 
perstitions are arranged under suitable heads, 
and are made to give each other mutual illus- 
tration ; but, which is a greater point, they are 
not oyer-classified. The book is readable, and 
has the charm of a book in which our modern 
habit of tabulation has not been allowed to rub 
out all the life and spirit of the things it deals 
with. Mr. Henderson tells his stories like a 
man who loves them, and not like the curator 
of a museum coldly counting over his curiosities. 
Not unfrequently he has to tell of portents which 
would come true, whatever science would have 
urged to the contrary ; and the reader feels a 
sense of awe creeping over hira, as at something 
unexplained and unexpliinable. At another time 
the Author brings out some weird relic of an 
antique paganism, and the reader is suddenly 
transported into the presence of strange rites 
and powers of an undefined and mysterious 
wickedness. Further on Mr. Henderson tells 
of some of those strange forms in which our 
unlettered ancestors have expressi d quaintly and 
poetically a thorough faith in the facts of the 
Great Redemption. Some of his stories of this 
latter class are poetical, and all are admirably 
related.' Literary Churchman. ' 



London: LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. Paternoster Row. 



Just published, in crown 8vo. price 9s. cloth, or price 155. bound in calf 
by Riviere, 

THE ^NEID OF VIRGIL 

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE. 
BY JOHN CONINGTON, M.A. 

CORPUS PROFESSOR OP LATEJ IN THE tlN'rVERSITY OP OXFORD. 



SECOND EDITION, REVISED. 



' The rendering is almost invari- 
ably life-like, flowing, and readable. 
Professor Conincton's prolonged com- 
mentatorial study of Virgil has given 
him a freedom and power in bringing out 
the meaning of his Author which has en- 
abled him, on the whole, to keep remark- 
ably close to the original, notwithstanding 
that his metre is one that would, perhaps 
more than any other, justify a translator 
in leaving the track. A bright and pleasing 
poem in itself, his book will certainly do much 
to increase among the general public a right 
understanding and appreciation of the great 
Roman epic' Fraser's Magazine. 

*It is a surprising triumph of 
skill, and as a translation it is more faith- 
ful to the original than one would have 
thought it possible to make one under the 
conditions of an English rhjoning metre, 
especially where the rhymes occur so 
quickly .... To those who are able to study 
it with the original before them, it will 
appear a marvellous instance of difficulties 
happily overcome. . . .As a readable version 
of a favourite Author, Ave heartily com- 
mend the work. Indeed, it gains in this 
respect where often it loses in its charac- 
ter of a faithful rendering ; and English 
readers may congratulate themselves upon the 
possession of a translation which will certainly 
give them some fair idea of one of the u'ost 
accomplished poems of antiquity. So plea=;ant 
is Mr. Conington's translation in the reading, 
that the critic almost forgets his vocation, and 
fancies himself perusing a modern composition 
based on the original story.' Daily News. 

'Professor Conington tells us 
that his chief reason for adopting the 
metre which Scott has made popular was, 
that it gave him the best chance of im- 
parting to his work that rapidity of move- 
ment which is indispensably necessary to 
a long narrative poem. In this he has 
been successful ; for we confess that one 
of the charms of his work is that it is 
eminently readable. On this ground we 
predict that the book will be very popular. 
Kor, while it pleases those to whom the 



original is a sealed book, will it fail 
to refresh the memory of the scholar and 
vividly reproduce the beauties of a fa- 
vourite author Turn where we will, 

the book has the most continuous power 
of interesting of any that we have met 
with. If Prof. CoNiNGTON cannot be 
classed with Dryden as a poet, he is far 
his superior as a scholar, and the fragrance of 
Virgilian language has not evaporated in his 
liands. The scholar will delight in comparing 
it with the original, and it will be equally 
acceptable in the boudoir as in the library.' 
The Times. 

' It would be easy to dilate on the 
many poetic turns which add grace to 
this translation ; but scholars and general 
readers will be more interested to leai'n 
that it is singularly faithful, and most 
rarely misses to express every thought and 
phrase of the poem it represents in trans- 
lation. So much is this the case that we 
would as soon see it in the hands of an in- 
telligent school-boy as any commentary. 
Such a pupil would hit the right interpre- 
tations, with the help of this translation, 
as certainly as, and less painfully than, he 
would with the commentaries of Wagner, 
Forriger, nay perhaps of Professor Con- 
iNGTON himself . This, in itself, is high 
praise of any translation : and the best 
gauge of its accuracy, as well as of its 
Author's qualifications in point of scholar- 
ship. There was no antecedent doubt on 
this point, of course, as regards the Corpus 
Professor of Latin. And many of his 
friends and contemporaries are cognisant 
of his poetic gifts, though we scarcely 
think his Odes of Horace were so happy 
or ripe a fruit as his JEneid of Virgil. If 
it should [be found, as we believe it will, with 
regard to this latter, that it may be put into tlie 
hands of educated women and girls, and read 
by them book after book with pleasure, interest, 
and persistency, notwithstanding their lack of 
knowledge of the original. Professor Con'ngton- 
will have proved himself able to achieve what 
no translator of Virgin has achieved before 
him, and have earned no secondary plnce 
among a goodly host of translators from the 
antique.' Chdrchman. 



London: LONGMANS, GEEEN, and CO. Paternoster Eow. 

6j 



& 



«;'^ 






^-^ '^^'i<. \ 






^' .%^'' 



,' . ^ ' * ft *^ "" 4^ 



^'■- ^' 



.V* .*^5^,. 



^ ,^-* 



^V' 



xV S^"*^ 






^ ^ ^- ' 6 



^^■/r??p^. 



-f V 






^^^^"^ ■%''>^;^> 






^.>^ s 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




013 999 744 A 



